


To Fall Before The Lion

by sansalannistark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Mix of book and show plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: "If one should be prey, how much the better,To fall before the lion than the wolf."- Shakespeare's Twelfth NightTywin marries Sansa Stark to Tyrion Lannister, but Jaime Lannister's return creates danger, confusion, friendship and love to grow from the strangest places.Disclaimer: All characters, names, places etc, belong to George RR Martin. I own nothing but my words and ideas :)





	1. This is the End

**Author's Note:**

> This is the big one guys, the one I've been working on since late 2016 and the reason why I haven't written a lot of other fic. Hope you like, and please do read and review, especially this work as it means the most to me of all my fics :) 
> 
> * Sansa has been aged up to 17 at the start so it's not underage (this is closer to her show age anyway).

** This is the End **

 

 

_This is the end_  
_This is the end_

_You wait to find that I'm still here_  
_And you've been waiting for the light to shine_

_Wake up, wake up, wake up_  
_I'll be the answer to the question_  
_I can't answer, it's a question_  
_You can't spit it out, can we find_  
_We find, we find a way out, a way out_

_- **Daughter 'The End'**_

 

 

 

“Father, this is ridiculous. What madness has possessed you to marry Sansa Stark – a girl of barely 16 – to me?” Tyrion snapped. Jaime regarded his brother carefully, noting as Tyrion expressed his anger.  Jaime couldn’t deny he thought his father had to be joking, though no one had ever known Tywin Lannister to joke.  _And the girl is a key strategic player in the bid for power in the North._ The Kingslayer felt a wave of sorrow for the young northern girl he had sworn to protect: although he knew Tyrion would be the kindest to her of the Lannisters he also knew that given the choice Sansa Stark would rather marry a commoner from the streets. He wondered idly if the girl would rather die but concluded that she _was_ Ned Stark’s daughter and she was too honourable to take _that_ particular route _._ Tyrion’s next words snapped Jaime from his reverie. “What about Jaime? Surely, as the older brother...”

“Oh, do not think your brother is getting out of this.” Tywin turned to address Jaime, who watched as his father’s impassive face turned forceful. “You may be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard now but in time I will have you dismissed and wed as your brother is to be. It is high time both of you took responsibility for the future of this house – and your sister too. I will, in time, find a match for you Jaime, and your sister is to be wed to Loras Tyrell.”

Jaime grit his teeth, attempting to suppress the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him as his father looked at him pointedly. _We’re always disappointments in his eyes_. It was not the impending separation from Cersei that bothered Jaime, but more the prospect of being married off. No, it was not that either, he realised. It would be his separation from this girl he was sworn to protect: her marriage to Tyrion would keep her in the capital, unable to leave. Jaime could see no way for him to fulfill his oath – and fulfill it he must, for he refused to become an oath breaker yet again – he had sworn to both Brienne and Catelyn Stark that he would get the Stark daughters home, and with Arya Stark gone, Sansa Stark was his last chance at honor.

Even Brienne could not take her home if Sansa were stuck in a Lannister marriage in the capital. For a second he briefly considered claiming Sansa for himself so he might take her north but he knew father wouldn’t want to give him a traitor’s daughter. He wanted to punish Tyrion and Jaime assumed that if she had the choice, Sansa would likely rather marry Tyrion than the crippled Kingslayer who fucked his sister and who was old enough to be her father.

Jaime would just somehow have to find a way to sort this mess out.

Whilst Tyrion’s quiet protests had not caught his attention his father’s now-angry words did. “You will marry the Stark girl and get her with child.” The Lannister patriarch barked at Tyrion. “We cannot rule the North without her. _All of you_ will do your duty.” Abruptly, Jaime felt something _snap_ in his composure as his father finished lecturing them.

“I never askedto be in the Kingsguard! You forget it was the Mad King who chose me - to spite you - not the other way round. There’s naught you or I could have done to stop it. Not without angering Aerys at any rate.” He countered. “And now I am sworn to serve, I will not leave.” _If I can get out of this impending marriage father has planned for me, at least I can keep an eye on Sansa and keep her safe here, if not in the north. Cersei will likely want her dead and Joffrey no doubt torments her._

“I will hear no more argument from you, Jaime. You _will_ marry in due course. And Tyrion, you willdo your duty to your house or there will be consequences. As must your sister and brother; I will not let the Lannister name go in shame.” 

“Oh no, we couldn’t have that could we.” Jaime spat, turning around to leave. He heard his father’s call as he left - likely some threat or warning - but Jaime barely even blinked. He felt his little brother exit the room behind him.

Now Jaime had left the room, lack of distraction caused his mind to recall the way he’d found his sister upon his return to the capital _._ Just thinking about it made him angry and he bit down on his lip as he replayed the cruel image of how he’d found her fucking Lancel. After everything he’d been through, everything he’d sacrificed to get back to her... He’d lost his hand, goddamn it! Everything he’d been worth – every inch of his fighting ability – had been lost and to have her unwittingly throw all his trials back in his face like that... He felt so fucking worthless.

He slammed his stump into the wall in frustration and hurt. Pain caught his eyes but he refused to cry.  _I’ve not lost my pride yet and I’d rather prefer to keep it that way._ He stormed off towards his chambers. He needed to wash, get his bloody stump seen to. Tyrion could wait. As he ambled along the corridors he kept thinking about her betrayal. The onslaught of images that flooded his mind made him want to kill the both of them, for he was certain that his brother, the observant and wise man he was, had known about this. He was so caught up in his anger that he didn’t see the figure running along the corridor until he collided with them.  _Her,_ he corrected,  _it’s a woman._  It wasn’t until, she tried to pull away with a quiet, brisk apology that he realised just who she was.  

“Sansa Stark?” He frowned, cocking his head to the side and taking in the gown and bold red hair.  

“Excuse me, Ser.” She muttered again – albeit politely – pulling her arm from his grasp. He noticed she kept her head down.  _So a shy wolf then,_ he pondered, considering her. She wasn’t how he remembered. Taller - older, of course - and now the spitting image of her mother. Time had hardened her as it had her mother: she radiated change. She seemed the same in her mannerisms but not in her appearance. A fact that became shockingly apparent when she lifted her face and Jaime took in the battlefield that it had become. For the childish Sansa Stark she had arrived as would never have borne the marks that this young woman wore.

A smattering of angry bruises lined the left hand of her jaw and a nasty red gash ran down one cheek, still raw and sore and, by the looks of it, still causing pain. Jaime’s eyes had widened in shock. Sickeningly, he understood why she had kept it hidden and the horror seeped down to his bones, unable to understand how someone could bring themselves to mar the gentle face of a young noblewoman such as Sansa Stark.  He understood Joffrey had cruel traits but this... this was completely unacceptable. He had assumed her family’s status and her title would have garnered her _some_ respect, despite their family’s animosity. _A high born lady at court shouldn’t be treated like this._ Before she could slip away, he caught her arm, holding her fast.

“Lady Sansa...” Jaime asked tersely. “Who did this to you?” She avoided his gaze as she attempted to struggle from his grip. “What do you care?” She snapped at him, forgetting herself.  _This wolf has fangs,_ he mused,despite the situation.  _Perhaps I misjudged her._  

She seemed to change before his eyes, her expression calming as a mask rippled over her face. “I apologise, Ser. I am tired, perhaps that why I acted so rash. As for my injuries, they are of no consequence; I am a traitor’s daughter.”

“Do not avoid the question.” He paused, watching her face contort in an effort to continue her little act of careful courtesy. “It was Joffrey wasn’t it.” It came out as a statement, not a question and the tremor on her face only confirmed his suspicions.  

“Ser, you don’t-”

“Don’t worry...” He said. A slight smirk hovered on his lips. “I won’t tell anyone you told me.” She looked slightly relived although he doubted she trusted him. _After all, I am an oathbreaker and a Kingslayer._

_Most of all a Lannister._

“My Lady, I know you don’t want to hear this but it is better you know sooner rather than later and from someone who will delight in telling you,” Jaime explained. He continued hesitantly. “My father, he is arranging for you to marry my brother, Tyrion. I am sorry, I know it’s the last thing you want. I know you’re in danger here but I will do my best to ensure you are protected.” A look of surprise passed across her features for a moment, interrupting the passive neutral expression she had previously adopted.

 Jaime stared at her intently, trying to somehow reassure her. “Sansa, I made a promise to your mother to protect you. I'm sorry you've been hurt in such a way but I intend to keep my promise – I will stop this. I may be a Kingslayer; I may be an oath breaker, a man without honour but I won't let another innocent be harmed by a mad king again.” With that he turned and left leaving Sansa standing aghast in the corridor. 

He was furious now. Not only was Sansa the woman he had sworn to protect but she was an innocent and to have her beaten in this way was heartless and sick to the core. At least he knew who had caused it and he was going to make sure he never touched her again. He could only pray that Joffrey had done no more than beat her. He had no idea what he would do to Joffrey if he found out he’d violated Sansa. It didn’t bear thinking about. It ashamed him to know he was the one that had fathered the boy and he was certain Sansa knew Joffrey's true parentage - she wasn't stupid. No wonder she didn't trust him.

As he approached his chambers his thoughts betrayed him, returning once again to the bitch that had once sworn to love him and only him. A new surge of fury bubbled to the surface as Jaime came to the conclusion that Cersei must have know how Sansa was treated and did nothing to stop the violence inflicted. _Cersei is a lot of things but_ _stupid_ _is not one of them. If anything I don't doubt she enjoys the pain inflicted on the Stark girl._ The anger it would bring to Cersei if he protected Sansa only made him more determined to help her.  

_If I fulfill my promise to Catelyn Stark and anger my father and Cersei then it'll all be worth the trouble._   _Let’s just hope Sansa Stark cooperates_. 

\---------- 

Jaime stayed in his chambers only long enough for Pycelle to dress his stump and reapply the bandages he had put on immediately after Jaime had returned to King’s Landing. Jaime’s anger had simmered down but he was well overdue for a long wine-fuelled discussion with Tyrion.

In less than an hour he was slumped across one of Tyrion’s chairs, a large goblet of Arbor gold in his hand which had been refilled more than once already. The wine was making his mind foggy: in fact, he could barely concentrate on anything his brother was saying. Some shit about the situation in King’s Landing or other.  

“Did you know Cersei was fucking Lancel?” Jaime blurted out. He noted the stunned expression on his brother’s face and it hit him like a thunderstorm: _Tyrion did know. Would he have ever told me?_ Jaime felt a thud of betrayal, not for the first time since returning.

 Tyrion considered him for a moment, his face darkening before he replied.

“Yes. I’m sorry, brother. It’s been going on for a while and not just him. There have been... others, members of the Kingsguard.” Tyrion said sadly. “I would have told you, but after I learned of your hand, I didn’t want to hurt you any more.”

“What does it matter to me? We always knew she wanted power.” He muttered angrily, his hand swaying glumly as his head bowed. Tyrion looked at him warily. “I don’t want to talk about Cersei anymore.” He slammed the goblet down, staring into the depths mournfully. “I just wish you had told me.”

“I am sorry. I was trying to protect you.”

Jaime sighed. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I understand.” Jaime slouched further in his seat, his mood failing to dissipate, a fact Tyrion noted with interest. 

“What is it, Jaime? I know Cersei hurt you but there’s something else.” Tyrion said, staring intently at his brother. “Really, I should be the depressed one; I’m to marry Sansa Stark, a girl who by all rights hates me-”

“Did you know that Joffrey has been abusing Sansa Stark?” Jaime spat suddenly, looking angrily at his brother. Tyrion gave a small nod, glancing for only a moment into the distance as if lost in thought. Jaime looked at him questioningly he snapped out of the reverie.

“Yes, I know about Sansa. I’ve tried to make sure she was watched, especially around Joffrey but I can’t protect her all of the time.” 

“I’m not suggesting you do, it’s just... well, I can’t believe my father would allow her to be treated like that.” Jaime muttered, his good fingers skimming the edge of the goblet. “I expected Joffrey to be unkind, but the bruises on her face... that is not unkind, Tyrion, that is cruel.”

“I’m not entirely sure father knew.” Jaime looked up in disbelief. “He’s far more preoccupied with the war and who else but him has the will or time to deal with the boy? Cersei will never stop him, he’s too wild and she enjoys watching Sansa at her son’s mercy.”

Jaime nodded sadly. “I suppose you’re right.”  He knocked back the last gulp of wine from his goblet with a slight grimace. Jaime hadn’t drunk such fine wine in so long that his body took some adjusting.  

“I may as well have stayed away. What’s left for me here now?” 

“What else do you propose to do? I know you do not wish to be married but father will insist and he will want you here so that he may start finding a wife for you.” Tyrion mused. “And if you stay in King’s Landing, you can at least help me protect Sansa Stark from our _benevolent_ and _honourable_ king.” 

“I had thought that. You know I made a promise to Catelyn Stark, to find her daughters and return them to her.” Tyrion simply nodded. “Well, I fully intend to protect Sansa by whatever means I can.  I may be an oath breaker but this is the one oath I  _must_ keep.” He asserted quietly. 

“It seems you rather care for the Stark girl.” Tyrion shot him a strange look he couldn’t quite place and Jaime shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“What do you mean?” 

“You seem to be awfully preoccupied with her tonight.” Tyrion replied pointedly, raising his eyebrows. “Although she is to be my wife,”  He added.

Jaime had had enough and sensed this conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn. “I am not quite sure what you mean Tyrion.” Jaime stood up to leave. “If you would excuse me, it has been an exhausting journey and I would do better for long rest. Goodnight, brother.” He walked out bluntly. Tyrion bid him goodnight and smiled to himself, pouring another goblet of wine by pure habit alone. 

After Jaime left, Tyrion found his thoughts occupied by his brother and Sansa Stark. All Tyrion could think about was how Jaime had never mentioned how hefelt about his new role protecting the Stark girl, aside from the chance to regain some of his lost ‘honour’. He obviously didn’t hate the girl, that much was clear.

Tyrion had neglected to tell Jaime that in fact, there was a good chance Sansa could warm to him in time. Although Tyrion had put on an outburst of protestation and anger when his father announced marriage to Sansa, Tyrion had known previously of his father’s plans and had informed Sansa that it was in their interests to marry: they would avoid being married to others who might treat them worse. It would afford Sansa a little more protection, Tyrion could continue to keep Shae as his lover (Sansa had assured him she found it understandable) and Sansa could keep her maidenhead until she could get away North or escape. It was an arrangement made by what Tyrion might even call friends, or at the least, allies. Since the Blackwater, Sansa had slowly opened up to Tyrion and Shae, trusting them completely. _Perhaps she understood my distaste for Lannisters_ , he laughed to himself.

Now Tyrion, had plans. If Jaime and Sansa could at least be friends, then it would completely break Cersei’s hold on his brother - he was sure of it - and it would give Sansa protection and support: things he knew she needed.

_They both wanted honour once, to be the golden knight and the fair maiden from the songs and now their dreams have been shattered. Perhaps a lion and a wolf can find solace in one another._

Tyrion smiled again taking a gulp of wine as he began to plot, plan and muse as he did best.  _Somehow,_ he was going to make these two see each other as anything but the enemy. 


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tries to put a stop to the violence against Sansa, meanwhile the aforementioned wolf has a decision to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! This is quick and the others probably won't be as quick :( As always, enjoy, read and review - pretty please! :)
> 
> There's a bit of Sansa POV in this chapter (!!), although I prefer writing from Jaime's

**Home**

_Oh, you're not a friend,_  
_No, you're nothing._  
_I think I should be a little more confident._  
_In myself,_  
_In my skin._  
  
_'Cause I don't stand a chance in these four walls._

 _-_ **Home by Daughter**

 

Jaime gratefully sunk onto the bed as he made it back to his room in one piece, despite the considerable amount of wine he’d consumed even though the moon had not long since appeared. He reached up to rub his face with his right hand out of habit until he bumped the stump off his chin and winced. “Seven hells.” 

He couldn’t be bothered to undress – not that it was easy with his hand in this state. Gods know how he was supposed to fight with his sword hand gone. He knew he would never swing a sword as he once had, if at all. Jaime hoped silently that the extraordinary amount of wine he had consumed - when his system was so unused to it - would encourage his body to relax so he could get some sleep. It didn’t take long lying there until Jaime realised it was fruitless: there was just too much on his mind.  _Cersei._ _My hand._ _Tyrion._ _Sansa Stark._ He mind replayed his conversation with Tyrion, where his annoying brother had suggested he had an incongruous interest in the welfare of Sansa Stark and although he had dismissed it at the time it dawned on him that he  _did_ have an interest, although certainly not some sort of disturbing infatuation as his brother had insinuated.  _I don’t want to see her hurt, that’s all. I did swear to return her to her mother._  

Jaime had left much unsaid, appreciating now that that perhaps the real reason he cared so much for Sansa’s welfare was because she was an innocent.  _Just like Queen_ _Rhaella_ _. She did not deserve the malicious actions inflicted upon her by the King, actions I knew of and failed to end. I cannot let Sansa suffer the same fate._  

Giving up completely on sleep, Jaime rose, deciding to take an impromptu walk around the keep, thinking perhaps a trip to visit Pycelle. Jaime completely distrusted the old lecher but a visit to the bastard might produce some useful sleeping draught. The keep was nearly deserted and only the occasional servant passed, bowing respectfully as they saw him pass. For once, Jaime was glad the keep was quiet; it meant there was no chance of encountering Cersei or Joffrey. He really didn’t need that right now and  Jaime privately wondered how far he’d go if an opportunity to come face to face with either of them. He would rather not find out.  

Jaime was nearing Pycelle’s chambers when he heard a low cry, so low he almost didn’t hear it. He stopped in his tracks, listening, when he heard the voice again, quieter this time and then a cracking sob that made his insides turn. It was coming from a small disused chamber a little further up and Jaime immediately headed for it, having no idea of what he might find. 

He turned the door handle, pushing the door open and felt his jaw practically drop as he saw Sansa Stark sitting on the floor, her back braced against the wall as he shoulders shook as she sobbed. Jaime felt helpless, hovering in the doorway with no idea how to resolve _this_ situation. Crying women had never been his area. Sansa hadn’t yet noticed him as her eyes were closed and fists twisted, knotting together in a way Jaime recognised, in order to control her sobs.

“Sansa...” He whispered softly, for right now _Lady Sansa_ felt far too cold and emotionless. His voice felt detached as he spoke, like the scene before him was something out of some ancient song of woe and not the true suffering of an innocent young woman. She looked up and he felt a shadow of guilt _–_ for it was the actions of _his_ son that had resulted in the red rimmed eyes that bore into his. He also noted the increased prominence of her bruising now that some time had passed since their last meeting. Sansa quickly gathered herself when she registered who now faced her, brushing her hand across her face to wipe the tears away as if they were cobwebs. She muttered an apology – _again –_ and rushed towards the doorway, trying to push past him when he caught her arm and turned her to face him. The look of momentary fear on her face made him feel even more horrible but she needed to know that he wasn’t Joffrey, that she needn’t fear him like she did the rest of his family.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry I intruded.” She gave him a queer look through her mussed lashes, as if she was confused by him. _Of course she’s confused. You’re a bloody Lannister. She probably thinks you want to beat her too._

“I am  _not_ going to hurt you, Sansa.” He repeated. “I promise you _._ ” She nodded silently and pulled out of his grasp and, despite the nature of the whole situation, Jaime watched as she disappeared with a sense of... well, not sadness but perhaps regret. _I should have said more to her. I swore to protect her and I don’t_ want _her to fear me._

For some strange reason he’d had the urge to pull her close and hug her. He couldn’t stand seeing her in pain. _Perhaps because she’s an innocent. Sansa Stark seems to bring out the vulnerable side in me._ He wondered what she’d been upset about, although it wasn’t hard to guess it wasn’t just about Joffrey. _She misses her family. A wolf should run with the pack, not be trapped in a den of lions. She’s so broken and no one cares to notice, save my brother._

Reesolving that every second he failed to deal with this situation, Sansa Stark was in danger, Jaime decided to simply go and speak to Cersei – he was going to deal with this now before it could possibly get any worse and he knew the only way it could be stopped was if he spoke to his sister, as much as the thought of her repulsed him. It was only Jaime’s fury that spurred him on. Anger at Sansa’s treatment was a large part of his rage, but it also stemmed from the fact that, between Cersei and his father, no one had even tried to protect the girl – even if it was just so that their ‘hostage’ was still safe.

He felt his hand absently reach for the sword at his waist by pure habit, until he realised it wouldn’t do much good. _Face it; you_ can’t _defend her if it comes down to it._ Jaime would have to rely on words if he hoped to resolve the situation – something he usually shunned. He found the Queen Regent’s chambers, steeling himself before knocking _._ The low female voice he knew to be his sister’s called out. “Enter.”

Jaime strode in. He couldn’t show fear. “ _Your grace_ , I wonder if I might discuss something with you.” The emphasis on her title would at least let her know that he was not going to her with open arms and a forgiving heart.

Cersei was lounging in a chair, scowling in thought and a goblet of wine in her hand. _What a surprise,_ Jaime thought scathingly to himself _._

“And here I thought you wanted to see me. One would think after months of absence, a lover might desire to see his woman. Yet, you only see fit to honour me with your presence after nearly a day since you arrived back in King’s Landing.” Cersei’s hurt tone stabbed briefly at Jaime, until his unforgiving mind reminded him of her betrayal. Before he could reply, Cersei cut him off.

 “You’ve heard father’s plans.” Cersei noted his slight nod before continuing. “Well then, you know we must manage the situation, stop his actions before we are separated, as he tried to do nearly 20 years ago.”

“No.” The answer was simple, clean, curt. He left no room for manipulation. “I _know._  I Know how you have betrayed me whilst I have been gone. I know how you have used me. I know how you needed me, only as a tool of power to climb your way to the top. So, no. I want nothing to do with your sordid plans to go against father. I will stay here and go where he commands and do my duty, but no longer will that duty include fucking you for your own purposes. I’m done, Cersei.”

Jaime clenched his fist, seething under his breath. “I came only to demand that you control your son – the son that is presently beating Sansa Stark to a pulp near every night, from what I gather. As a high born lady she should be treated with more res-”

“She’s a traitor whore. How people act towards her is none of my concern.” Cersei snapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Neither is it _your_ concern.” _You little bitch._ “As for your speech before, it is true I have had other men, but none of them are _you,_ Jaime. _You_ are the man I love, my other half. We are two halves of a whole, Jaime. I had to do what I could, to use my only weapon to keep my son on the throne. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Jaime saw her tears, he saw her pleads and desperation but he saw the darkness underneath and he knew he would no longer be able to ignore the monster she had become. He shook his head.

“No, Cers, I cannot – I will not – be that man again.”

“Then get out. Get out before I have you thrown out.” She spat, suddenly turning a shade of cruel he had never before noticed, blinded as he had been by her sweet manipulations. “One would think your manhood was chopped off with your hand. I don’t need you anymore. What use is a cripple who cannot even fight? Get out!”

Jaime, hurt by her words and livid at her obvious distaste of the man who had once been her lover, turned and stormed straight out of the room and into the night.

_\-------------_

_I will not cry. I will not think. I will not feel._

That was what Sansa told herself as she stared at her face in the dresser mirror. Seeing the brutal injuries made her want to give in and let the pain flow but she gritted her teeth and began to examine them. Shae fussed around - with varying creams and ointments - trying to reduce the swelling. Sansa was grateful to the considerate Lorathi handmaiden, but she would honestly prefer to leave the brutal marks bare, for all the royal court to see the merciless actions of their king. Sansa had to admit silently that it would be futile: who would ever speak up against the abuse she suffered? Immediately, the previous night’s conversation with Jaime Lannister came to mind.

 Sansa wished her brother would come for her. _Surely, Robb doesn’t plan to leave me here forever, although my mother tried to help. She bargained Jaime Lannister’s freedom in return for his promise that he would help me go home._ Nonetheless, it wasn’t as if Sansa were going to trust the words of a Lannister ever again, for she had aged quickly and harshly in the time since Joffrey’s charming nature had truly shattered. Her father’s execution only the start, his disposition had turned quickly violent and ruthless. Now Jaime Lannister was offering her protection. The Kingslayer _._ And Joffrey’s father.

Sansa, despite whatever pathetic facades the court might swallow, was far from the stupid little bird they believed her to be. She had finally had enough of being a pawn. Now it was time to take her own future into her hands. She would no longer wait for her saviours: it was time she sought out her own knight in shining armour.

If trusting Jaime Lannister was what it would take to get out of this wretched place, that would be the risk she took. Dead or alive, she _would_ leave these bloodied walls.

A knock on her chamber door put her on alert as she motioned for Shae to see who waited outside. A quick glance told her it was Jaime, followed closely by Tyrion. She smiled at the sight of the dwarf and motioned for them to come in. Jaime hesitantly hung back a moment, but following his brother towards the red head after a pause. Tyrion’s face fell at the sight of her fresh injuries, still far from healing.

“Have you had those lacerations checked?” Tyrion asked, concern lining his voice. Sansa smiled kindly.

“No, but Shae has cleaned them well and I have been given an ointment to keep them free from infection. I’ll be fine.” Tyrion looked at her sceptically, raising his eyebrows knowingly. “I promise.” She insisted.

Jaime’s voice pierced the silence. “Sansa, I’ve been to see my sister, but no matter what threats I make she is a fire that cannot be thwarted.” Sansa acknowledged him sadly. _I do not need his help,_ she protested, as all the while her own conscience disagreed.

Seeing her crestfallen face he jumped to reassure her. “Sansa, I don’t give two shits about what Cersei has to say. I’m not hers to command anymore.”

“Then you have my trust. Or what’s left of it at least.” That much was true at least. Sansa knew she could not let her guard down now. _Every moment I must be on alert. One day he will deceive me and then I must be ready to fight my own way out._

Sansa watched Jaime’s eyes sink into her marred face and vulnerable eyes and felt a peculiarly dreadful urge to reach out and touch his arm, his cheek, his hair. Only courtesy and fear of what it might mean held her back. The torturous silence continued until Tyrion coughed pointedly and made to leave. Jaime, still caught in the moment, hesitated and, as if the thought had just occurred to him, picked up her hand and kissed it, letting his lips linger a moment against her soft skin. When he let go he realised Sansa’s eyes were now focused on his, the blue unwavering. Strangely, Sansa did not find the sensation unsettling but curious.

“Sleep well, my lady.”


	3. A Mind's Deceit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A garden rendezvous and a wedding.

**A Mind's Deceit**

_"She never looked nice._

_She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice;_

_it was supposed to make you feel something."_

_- **Unknown**_

 

 

  

Sansa sat quietly in her rooms, Jaime’s gentle words replaying in her mind as she let the ointments sink into the facial lacerations that marred her features. Her various meetings with the Kingslayer had at first made her wary and distrustful but given his insistence that he would help her, and Tyrion’s confidence in his brother, Sansa did not hate the man as she once had. Yet still his words confused her.

It seemed to Sansa that he held some sort of affection for her but she had heard the rumours and she knew the truth; for although he once would have been the golden knight of her dreams he was also a murderer and a man guilty of incest. It was a peculiar thought, the idea that the Kingslayer cared about a Stark.

Sansa began to feel suffocated, as the bewildering train of thought her mind was taking her on sped up. Desperate, she fled from her room, gasping for some air. The peace of the gardens brought her a sense of solitude she had once thought lost to her and so there she headed. Once amongst the flora and flush shrubbery, Sansa allowed herself to relax, letting her worn body absorb the undeniable beauty of the colourful foliage majestically bordering the worn paths. The moon shone sweetly overhead, allowing the paler roses to glow. It was only upon this discovery that it occurred to Sansa just how late it was – it could not be long until past midnight, perhaps even the hour of the bat.

Her tired body craved sleep but with the horrific fear that she endured every moment she wandered the lonely halls of the Red Keep, the gardens were the only place she could breathe easy. 

\---------

It was standing in the garden that Jaime found her. Mesmerised, he traced the lines of her figure and observed the astonishing stillness with which she held herself. He could not see her face but it was clear from the composure of her limbs that the gardens were a sense of escape and freedom for Sansa Stark.

For an extraordinary amount of time she hovered and he watched – both on the tipping point of a cliff until he saw her fall and lunged forwards to catch her as she collapsed. Jaime’s arms wrapped around her so easily it was as if they were made to hold her, a thought that caused him pleasure and confusion in unison. Shame overcame him as he looked down at her face; the bruises and swollen eye from Joffrey’s beating still lay on her face like a banner.

“Sansa?”

 All thoughts about keeping a distance were forgotten as he brushed his hand over her cheek to try and rouse her.

“Sansa... what happened?”

Like butterfly wings, her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, revealing the familiar blue eyes. To his surprise she didn’t hit him or struggle but proceeded to briskly push herself out of Jaime’s arms, only to stumble in what Jaime would bet was exhaustion. Jaime gripped her arm firmly.

“Easy, little wolf,” said Jaime.

Only then did she seem to acknowledge Jaime’s presence, looking down at his hand on her arm. He immediately removed it as if her skin burnt with wildfire. She looked at him, her gaze unwavering and unreadable.

“I should go...” She muttered uncertainly, her eyes unwavering.

“Yes. I’ll accompany you.”

“That would be an honour, Ser,” Sansa replied blankly.

_And there it is. Those goddamn courtesies again._ They were starting to wear on Jaime’s nerves, now that he had realised they were just an act and she found herself able to talk to _Tyrion_ without the need for cold barriers.

“Sansa, you don’t need to be so reserved with me,” began Jaime, hesitating when she looked at him sharply. They walked for a few moments side by side towards the grand archway leading to the interior of the keep.

“There’s no need to use such formal courtesies. I hate this place just as much as you do and the only reason I’m still here is to help you, goddamn it!”

He felt guilty when he saw Sansa flinch at his short-tempered tone but she needed to know where he stood. Jaime swallowed uncomfortably, trying to change the conversation.

 “What about your marriage to Tyrion?” 

“What of it?”

“What are your thoughts on that?” Before she’d had a chance to open her mouth, he interrupted. “Your _true_ thoughts.”

“Good... and bad.” Sansa whispered slowly. At Jaime’s confusion she continued. “Tyrion and I, we made an arrangement: he will not take my maidenhead, he will protect me – to some extent - with the marriage, and we will be able to take lovers of our choosing. It gives us freedom, as we are not forced into marriages with no control. But I will still be stuck here and it is as you said: you are not alone in the revulsion you harbour for this awful place.” Jaime studied her sadly.

“You have me to entertain you, my lady,” Jaime added with a smile. Sansa’s lips twisted in response. “You have my loyalty.”

“Thank you.” She said and from what he could tell _that_ had been an earnest response.

“Good night, Ser Jaime.” Sansa mumbled. She left, slinking into her chamber like a wounded wolf. Jaime watched her go and returned to his own.

It took a long time after he’d left Sansa for Jaime to realise that the thing making him the most uncomfortable was his protectiveness over Sansa. _She’s a Stark. By every right, I should want her dead but I’d rather fight the mountain, crippled as I am, than see her hurt for one moment longer._ He dismissed it as desperation after Cersei’s rejection but it wouldn’t stop tugging at him. _I have become too caring. Perhaps it’s all that time I spent with Brienne._ Thinking of Brienne reminded him of another idea he’d had. He’d decided earlier to make Brienne the little wolf’s sworn sword, for times when he wasn’t there to watch her. _Wait, since when did I care so much about a Stark? Oh yes, when I found Sansa_ _beaten bloody!_ Jaime wondered if things would have just been better if he had stayed Robb Stark’s captive. At least then he wouldn’t have had this... situation. Or the guilt surrounding him at the treatment of Catelyn Stark’s eldest daughter. If the bloody mummers had killed him maybe things would have been simpler. He never would have returned or felt the pain of Cersei’s betrayals either.

_But Sansa would have remained in King’s Landing with no one to look out for her. The beatings would have been harsher; she would have been raped._

_Her survival depends on me. Whether she likes it or not, she may not be able to endure this life entirely on her own._

\--------------------

Over the next few days, a flurry of activity for her upcoming nuptials ensured Sansa had no time to think about her and Jaime’s strange and recurrent interactions. Unfortunately, the similar multiple visits she endured from his twin were not met with the same level of curiosity. Sansa hated the Queen regent and every visit felt like a knife embedding itself further into her skull.

_His lover,_ Sansa corrected quietly in her shambolic mind, just as one of Cersei’s handmaidens pressed a golden confection of silk and beading against her body and muttered something to the Queen Regent. _She is not just his sister._

Sansa longed for some privacy and an opportunity to talk to Shae, namely about Jaime. Sansa knew the girl had more experience of men than her – to put it gently – but there was no way the two could converse as long as Cersei and her insipid little maids flocked around: Jaime may have sworn to protect her but he wasn’t here now, should Sansa say something to instigate the madwoman’s wrath. Moreover, Sansa was positive that if it came to a choice, the Knight would defend his sister over her; what was a wounded wolf compared to the beauty and power of Cersei Lannister? As the women flitted around, fiddling with the golden dress, Sansa bit at her lip – her nerves were killing her and she just needed some time alone with someone who she trusted.

The dress was pulled on and laced up and the last finishing touches applied to the wreath of hair. Despite the danger of angering Joffrey and Cersei, which she did often enough as it was, she tended to wear her hair down in the northern style with small braids adorning it, _not_ the tightly pinned nests that the Queen Regent favoured. The gesture was subtle enough to avoid direct punishment yet clear enough to show her defiance. Today would be no different.

Cersei’s voice rang out, dismissing the handmaids in a tone that left no doubt as to its being as frosty as the Long Night in the North. Once they were alone, Cersei’s faint smile dropped and became slanted. She roughly fiddled with Sansa’s dress and elegant hairstyle. The dress itself was a beautiful thing – gold and falling in soft layers but not _too_ extravagant. She liked it well enough though although the southern hairstyle, braided up just like Cersei’s, abhorred her.

“Well, little dove, you’ll do for my brother. After all, many would say a traitorous whore and a twisted dwarf were made for one another,” Cersei said sweetly, dripping acid as the smirk threatened to surface from the bitter depths of her core. Sansa tried to act hurt. She felt the Queen Regent’s hand drift over her cheek where the faint marks of the now-fading bruises were hidden under makeup, as if to show affection or tilt her face. Instead, Cersei gave it a sharp pinch and Sansa bit down a cry at the stab of pain, pressing herself not to cry. _I won’t show weakness. I am a Stark and Starks are not afraid._ Cersei smiled sweetly once again, saying nothing and exited, leaving Shae to come in a second later.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly, gripping Sansa’s arms gently. “Did she hurt you?”

“No more than I already have been.” Sansa whispered. “I just want my family...” Shae pulled her into a brief hug although the girl wasn’t much for open affection, aside from her care for Sansa. Sansa gratefully let herself be mothered. _This may be the last care I get ever again._

“I need to talk to you, Shae.”

“What is it?” Shae questioned.

“I don’t know who to talk to... it’s Jaime Lannister, he, um...”

“Oh gods, Sansa! What has he done? Please say he has not-”

“No, no!” Sansa exclaimed. “No, he came to me offering me protection and he says he swore to my mother that in exchange for his freedom he promised to take me home. I just don’t know if I can trust him.”

Shae frowned. “I do not know.” The handmaid admitted. “Tyrion tells me he has changed but I would be careful – he is still a Lannister.”

“But you love Tyrion.”

“Are you saying you love Jaime Lannister...?” Shae’s eyes narrowed.

“No, of course not. Believe me, Shae, he is coming shy of dislike, nothing more. I’m just saying that you trust Tyrion, why should I have reason not to trust Jaime?”

“Sansa, it is your choice... just be wary.” Shae warned.

“I know.” Sansa said, hard, sounding brutally more aged than her seven and ten years.

Shae looked at her softly. “Come on... let me do your hair.” She led Sansa to the dresser and began to let lose the soft auburn waves from the constricting southern style her other maids had fastened it in moments ago, as the minutes ticked on and the foreboding wedding came ever closer.

\----------------------------

Jaime stood awkwardly fiddling with his cuff, trying to give himself something to do. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous – he wasn’t the one marrying her and for that at least he was grateful - or so he had thought, when his father had declared that his younger brother was to marry the red haired beauty.

Sensing Tyrion’s presence beside him, he turned to look at his brother. The young Lannister rightly looked a little sombre. Noticing this, Jaime worried a little.

“Are you certain you are well, Tyrion?”

“If that is a way to try and determine my apprehension, Jaime, then I suggest you try a little harder to disguise it. And yes, I am a little, but on the most part it is for the benefit of our _delightful_ sister and father.” Jaime frowned. “It would not do for them to believe that Sansa and I will benefit from this arrangement and have absolutely no intention to consummate this farcical marriage.”

“This is the strangest wedding I’ve ever attended,” Jaime muttered, shaking his head.

“I am not surprised – although I don’t recall you attending a particularly significant number of weddings, brother. You would always find some devious way to escape to the training yard and practice your swordplay.”

“If only I could do that now.”

“I know. It will be difficult to fight with your left hand, but you have the skill – I am certain you will regain some of your old skills,” Tyrion assured him, absorbing Jaime’s sour expression. “However, you are changing the topic – I believe I mentioned Sansa.”

Jaime’s head snapped up sharply, his glittering green eyes alight with a noteworthy interest. _Someone’s curious all of a sudden._ Tyrion was convinced that if the Stranger had descended from the sky and offered his brother the ability to grow back his hand with the power of the heavens, his brother would share in his eyes the same look that currently possessed them now. Like a Dornish snake, Jaime was caught in a barrel. A very tight barrel, from which getting out would be extremely difficult, Tyrion noted.

Tyrion could not resist pushing his brother a little further. “As I was saying, I have come to know the little wolf very well. Jaime, she does not hate you.

There was a gleam in Tyrion’s eyes now as an idea sprung to mind, as it so often did in his great mind. “In fact, I believe that hate is very far from what she truly feels.”

Jaime had no time to respond, forced to take his seat as the first low notes of the Westerosi wedding tune echoed through the sept. His body was present as he sat, whilst his mind most certainly was not. Jaime only focused when he heard a hush fall around the room and followed the collective gaze of the onlookers to what he knew would be Sansa Stark.

He knew this. He knew who it was: no one else in this hell possessed such vivid, glorious red hair. Not a single person sitting in this room had such crisp porcelain skin. Not even Cersei stared at him the way this angelic figure did, seeing into the dirty and darkened depths of his very soul with her perceptive blue eyes.

Therefore Jaime could not fathom for one moment why he found himself unable to comprehend that the woman walking down the aisle of the sept was Sansa.

Sansa eventually reached the altar – after what seemed like a beautiful eternity – but nonetheless escorted by Joffrey. Jaime felt himself recoil as he watched Joffrey whisper something into her ear with a vindictive smirk. It comforted him to see Tyrion acknowledge this and pull Sansa away from his nephew with a small hand. A furtive glance between the betrothed couple seemed to soothe Sansa’s agitation and Jaime relaxed. He had not realised he had been so tense. From the corner of his eye, Jaime caught Cersei’s gloating features and experienced a spike of antagonism. By reflex, his fist clenched and he forced himself to turn away from her and focus on the ceremony. A buzzing filled Jaime’s ears as the High Septon said the necessary words and Tyrion and Sansa said their vows. When it came to the cloaking, he saw Tyrion’s imploring look at Sansa, who kneeled so that he could exchange the cloaks.

Jaime had not consciously thought of what came next, but upon it’s happening, felt a tight clench in his chest, suddenly knowing he did not desire to watch them kiss. Though turning away initially - for something in his subconscious caused their pairing to become abhorrent to him – he found himself unable to maintain a prolonged separation from the sight before him and his gaze was forced by some otherworldly power to return to Sansa’s face, if it were only to fall into the enchanting lull of watching her soft red hair drift gently in the light breeze that wafted through the open space. Unwillingly, he saw her hesitate then reach forwards to meet her lips with Tyrion’s in a scant bush of skin. Unbidden and spurred on by the sight of Sansa’s gentle lips, Jaime imagined he could smell her scent, like pine and flowers. His brain threw him into fantasies, fantasies of what it would be like if _he_ kissed her. To have her lips move against his. Just as soon as he had slipped into his lurid fantasy, Jaime fell out as the room erupted in cheers as the ceremony ended. The guests began making their way to the feast and Jaime – still dazed - followed.

Jaime could not take his eyes off Sansa the whole way.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one! I've been trying to improve my writing style and hopefully it shows and you all enjoy the continuation and development of this story :)
> 
> Please review, it really makes my day brighter :)


	4. Open Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa considers her protectors and talks to her husband before encountering a devious man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! No, I'm not dead. Just bad at updating. Well, it's here - enjoy guys and please read and review as usual. Your comments are the reason I'm writing this :)

 

 ** Eyes Wide **

Your heart is heavier today  
Can you feel it?  
Keep your eyes wide  
For fear of being lead astray

                               - **_Eyes Wide by Meadowlark_**

 

 

The feast was antagonising slow. Sansa was trying to focus on something other than the golden knight only two seats away. Just as in the ceremony, her traitorous mind had been unable to pull away from his altogether infectious gaze. In times long lost, when she had been engaged to a King, Sansa had been a young, pathetically naive girl clinging to the stories of old as if they were hairs on her pale northern skin. Then she’d seen her direwolf murdered, felt the brutality of her betrothed and watched him take her father’s head – a mad boy whose hand in marriage she had eagerly taken until he had entrapped her in this palace of malice and misery.

Sansa’s eyes rose as she took in the room of all the people she despised most. Amongst these malicious figures, she noticed only one pair of eyes staring straight back - Ser Jaime’s.

If she had not been so tainted by the abhorrent cruelty of this place, Ser Jaime would have been her golden knight. The man made to save her from harm. Yet, she despite her girlish admiration for him when he had arrived at Winterfell with the King’s court, she had seen only Joffrey in her future. This time as she stared at Jaime, she lamented in how stupid she had been – Jaime was so far from perfect, but he was no Joffrey. She just wasn’t ready to trust another pretty Lannister with her life, even if her conscience told her he would not break his promise to her mother.

Tyrion reached across the table to take Sansa’s hand, snapping her out of her painful recollection. She smiled gently at him as she fought back long-held tears.

“Sansa, would you like to retire now? So we can avoid the bedding ceremony...” He saw her pale as he said that and he gently pulled her from the chair as she glanced nervously in Joffrey’s direction. He saw her fear and did no more than nod to his father and pulled Sansa away from the festivities without drawing attention. Jaime’s eyes followed their retreating forms.

Once they were safely in their chambers, Tyrion reached straight for the wine – an unsurprising gesture - and passed Sansa a goblet. She accepted quietly and once they had downed their cups Tyrion reached for a dagger from the table. Sansa opened her palm silently as he drew the blade across it and let the ruby droplets sink into the bed linen.

They both simultaneously let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you,” said Sansa. “You did not have to spare me my maidenhead, and I know we agreed but...”

“Sansa, you don’t have to say anything. No one should be taking it from you without your consent,” Tyrion reaffirmed. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Sansa pulled her gown off, sliding a plain nightshift over the top and slid into the bed on one side as Tyrion took the other. Only once Tyrion was asleep did she allow herself to cry. Although this was not the nightmare marriage she had at first feared it to be, she was still alone. Her family was lost to her; she would never be married to a man who loved her. Sansa had never felt more alone. All she had was her friendships with Tyrion and Shae. She wasn’t even sure she could trust Maragery Tyrell, the girl who had taken her under her wing.

For not the first time since she had discovered the cruelty of this wretched city, Sansa wanted it to end. Perhaps she ought to provoke Joffrey, let him kill her. She would die defending the Stark name with honour. Yet she was too much of a coward to do it and part of her still clung to hope that one day, she would return to Winterfell and rule the North as its Queen.

Things did not change between Sansa and Tyrion in the days following their marriage. No one expected their marriage to be a happy one – after all, the lack of love between the two had been the reason Cersei had revelled in their pairing. To an outsider, it seemed as if the two were as cordial as the court expected them to be and Sansa and Tyrion made the best of their situation with the arrangement they had made lying between them.

Though the situation was awkward and unpleasant, Sansa knew that things could have been worse. Nothing about this did anything to sway the fact that it signalled the end of her romantic life. Sansa would never find a man for whom she could love and be loved by in return.

Her companions remained constant, including Jaime - who spent most of his time guarding her door - and the mysterious Brienne of Tarth, more knight than Lady but a good woman nonetheless. The day after her wedding, Jaime had introduced her to Lady Brienne, a noblewoman from Tarth who served as a knight. Sansa had hesitantly struck up a conversation with the woman, despite her initial hesitation, but had since learned that Brienne had promised her mother that she would escort Ser Jaime to the capital and help him bring her daughters home. Since Arya was gone, she had agreed to stay to serve Sansa. The two had been distant at first but Sansa started talking about Arya, thinking that her unruly little sister would have quite admired Brienne and the women became closer. Brienne, in the weeks since, had become a faithful companion and accompanied Sansa on her walks to the Godswood.

She’d been surprised to learn that Lady Brienne carried a Valyrian steel sword, until she learned it had been a gift from Tywin Lannister to his eldest son but due of the loss of his hand he had passed it on to Brienne. It had saddened her at first, to learn that her father’s sword had been destroyed and remade but Brienne was a good woman and Sansa felt that of all the people to own a sword of that origin and magnificence, Brienne was the most deserving.

Brienne’s words had also reaffirmed that Sansa could trust Jaime: the blonde woman had assured her that Jaime had sworn to Catelyn Stark that he would help Sansa and Arya and that he was honourable, despite the contrasting opinions of many others. Sansa found herself unable to dispute Brienne’s tale of how Jaime had returned to Harrenhal and fought a bear just to save Brienne. The fact that he had gifted Brienne such a glorious sword, given to him by his own father, made Sansa question if Jaime felt something more for Brienne but when she asked Brienne, the woman dismissed the suggestion with vigour.

In short, Sansa had come to admire Jaime Lannister. The loss of his hand seemed to have changed him and he had regained a sense of empathy and care towards those around him: even a young Stark maiden.

Jaime had never talked about the loss of his hand to her, although she had broken beyond her usual barrier of polite courtesy with him. However, Sansa needed to truly know this man well if she was going to be trust him to take her home. For that, she needed to speak to his brother. Thankfully, Tyrion was alone in his solar when she entered. Sansa took a seat at his desk. Tyrion was engrossed in a book with a glass of wine in his hand which, after a few months of his company, didn’t at all surprise her.

“Sansa,” he said pleasantly. “What brings you here? Would you like some wine?”

“No, thank you. I simply wanted to speak with you.” Sansa replied, shuffling her hands in her lap.

“Well, go ahead. As you well know I am great one for talking. And my little wife does not do so much of it I have noticed, so this must be very important,” Tyrion quipped. Sansa fidgeted, her gaze remaining downward.

“I wanted to talk about Jaime.” Ah yes, the ever lingering brother. I wondered how long it would take until we got here. “He lost his hand but he will not talk to me about it and I know it has changed him. I want to help, Tyrion – like he helps me.”

“Jaime’s very identity lies in that hand. You know he cannot swing a sword and his fighting ability is what defines him: after all he was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for a reason. Sansa, have you not considered that perhaps what bothers him the most is not his inability to protect the King but to protect you? He swore a vow and I know it means more to him than any others have. This vow is the first step to the new, honourable Jaime. Losing his hand hinders that.” She nodded quietly in response.

“I did not think Jaime would care all that much about me.” Sansa admitted.

“’Sansa Stark is my last chance for honour’. That is what he told me Sansa. I think you are more important you him than you know.”

“Tyrion, it is the promise, not myself, that matters to Jaime.”

Tyrion could have groaned. Come on, Sansa. Surely you can see my brother’s affection for you. “Are you quite sure?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yes. He cares about only one person besides you and that is Cersei. I am not blind Tyrion, nor stupid, despite what the court may have you believe.”

“I know that – but he loves Cersei no longer.” Tyrion observed her eyes jump upwards suddenly, her interest piqued. Ah, there it is.

”Our whore of a sister,” he continued, “has been fucking every useful man in King’s landing in her relentless quest for power. Jaime found her with one of them when he returned. Besides, what makes you think Cersei has need of a cripple?”

“But he loves her.” Sansa murmured, sadness seeping over her features.

“And she does not love him. Not truly.”

“I see,” Sansa whispered, slowly rising to stand. “Thank you, Tyrion. I will leave you to your reading.”

“You’re very welcome.” Sansa was almost at the door when Tyrion called out.

“Oh, and Sansa? My brother is often blind when it comes to those he cares about – perhaps it is time you opened his eyes.” Sansa’s gaze fell as she left without another word.

Sansa hurried along the long corridor, her mind spinning. How can Tyrion suggest Jaime loving me – the man is so much older and why, of all people, would he have affection for a Stark? It’s simply absurd. So lost in her thoughts, Sansa did not notice the approach of Lord Baelish until he stopped right in front of her.

“Lord Baelish, my apologies - I was distracted. How may I help you?” said Sansa. Littlefinger simply smiled, although a hint of satisfaction lingered in its depths, Sansa noted suspiciously. The small man took her hand and kissed it.

“How well you look, Lady Sansa. Marriage seems to agree with you.” He simply said.

“Thank you, my Lord. I am quite well.”

“Sansa, you need not lie to me. I know you did not wish for this marriage – after all, the Lannisters are the sworn enemies of your house. How could you wish to marry any of them, and the Imp at that.” Littlefinger looked at her closely and Sansa felt compelled to tell the truth.

“You are correct, my Lord, I did not choose this marriage, but I make the best of what I have.”

“Now Sansa, you must call me Petyr. You know your mother and I were close, almost family. That makes you a dear friend. There is no need for us to be quite so formal with one another.” He explained, shooting her a friendly smirk. He rested his hand on her arm as he steered her into a small alcove. “Sansa, listen to me. I can help you escape this place but you must put your trust in me,” Littlefinger whispered. “There is a boat leaving shortly after the King’s wedding. I can take you back to Winterfell – to your mother.”

Sansa considered him, this man who knew her mother so well and yet whose intentions she did not know. “Lord Baelish, I am grateful but Ser Jaime has sworn to my mother to return me to her.”

“Petyr, please.” His eyes narrowed. “And would you truly trust the word of a Kingslayer – and a Lannister.” Sansa lowered her gaze.

“I am not sure. Perhaps if you gave me time to think, Petyr.” He nodded, releasing the grip she had only just realised he had on her.

“Of course. I shall speak to you again in a few days. For now, stay safe, Sansa.”

“Thank you.” Sansa watched him depart. Why has my life now suddenly become so complicated? If only I had never left Winterfell.  
Sighing heavily, Sansa picked up her skirts and resumed her previous course to her rooms. For now, she had to concentrate on the future, not the past if she had any hope of surviving in this Lion’s enclosure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to kill me if you spotted mistakes, although to be fair, it is 1am here. Margaery should be popping in soon and I'll try to add Marge/Tyrion in at some point although it might not be until the sequel which is AGES away. Sorry :/


	5. Knights and Maidens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reminisces and some terrible news is brought. The lion comforts the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new update, although quite short :( I am also going to change the chapter titles a bit, to make them suit more and revise some of the font/formatting for chapter 4 as it went weird. Other than that, enjoy! :) And reviews.comments would be greatly appreciated ;)

**Knights and Maidens**  

_i need someone_

_who knows struggle_

_as well as i do_

_someone_

_willing to hold my feet in their lap_

_on days it is too difficult to stand_

                                                                                **\- the type of lover i need, Rupi Kaur (Milk and Honey)**

Sun shone through the soft linen of the curtains as Sansa leaned against the stone columns of the large window. So distracted she was with her thoughts about Jaime, she had forced herself to occupy her mind with a more productive task: sewing. Although she had given up with this particular project months ago, Sansa found she had a desire to continue with it. The material she currently held had been a piece she had intended to add to a gown. The fine grey cloth was partly embroidered with a glittering direwolf to honour her family and as she worked with the small beads and glittering silver thread, it brought up fresh, more pleasant memories of home. Rather than the usual miserable and distressing thoughts however, she was blessed with happy memories. Her minded wandered back, recalling how Robb used to play knights and maidens with her, or how she fought with Arya and how she used to sew with Septa Mordane and the childish satisfaction she held from it – especially when Septa Mordane had praised her for her skills and belittled Arya for her lack of concentration. Sansa was so lost in thought that she did not notice the door open or the footsteps that approached.

“Sansa! Did you not hear my call? Gods, you really are a stupid whore.” Sansa flinched. She would recognise that voice anywhere. _Joffrey._

“I am sorry, Your Grace," she answered quickly, sliding the piece of direwolf embroidery under the cushions lining the stone window seat. Sansa stood up, determined to maintain her false courtesies in front of the King. “I was ignorant... stupid.”

“Yes, yes,” Joffrey muttered. “I know that. You better be paying attention now, traitor whore. I have some news for you.” Joffrey was grinning wildly now, his teeth gleaming like sliver blades. Sansa froze. _Oh gods, what could possibly make him this happy._

“Your traitor brother and mother are dead! Robb Stark is dead!” Sansa felt weak as all the air inside her lungs flew away. She would have collapsed if not for the shock keeping her standing upright. “And there’s more! After they killed your brother, they cut off his head and sewed on his direwolf’s instead! Do you know what they did to your mother? They slit your her throat and threw her in the river.”

Sansa had never wished more strongly for the ground to swallow her up. The pain of her family’s horrific deaths clawed at her, tearing her heart into thin, damaged slivers and piercing the very edges of her soul. She was utterly and completely alone in this world. No longer could she remain holding out hope of rescue by Robb. No longer could he save her like he had when they were children. Even her mother – whose face remained one of continual tranquillity and composure in Sansa’s mind – was gone. She would never see them again.

“I am sure that news pleased you,” he smirked. Sansa fought the tears that threatened to fall from the depths of her haunted eyes.

“Yes, Your Grace, I wished for nothing more than the deaths of the traitors in the North.” Sansa’s voice was emotionless and empty.

“Good. I expect to see you in court soon. You’ve been avoiding it.” Joffrey’s words hinted at his underlying displeasure and Sansa made mental note to appease him later. Now, however, she just wanted him to leave so she could mourn in peace.

Sansa stayed where she stood until Joffrey left and the door slammed shut. The tears began to trickle steadily, tracing her cheeks and the burning pain that lay underneath her skin. Sansa resumed her position at the window, staring out into the city she detested as her mind taunted her. It seemed to her particularly cruel that she had been reminiscing about happier times just before she had found out the news. The gods truly were cruel.

Sansa lost track of time as she wept, staring aimlessly outside. She was only broken from her anguish-laden trance when the door opened again. Sansa – with not the heart to turn and see who it was – ignored the entry. She had quite given up on responding to any more who came to taunt her. But the intruder was not Cersei, nor any of the others she detested.

“Sansa...?” Jaime’s calm, soothing voice broke through the tangible atmosphere like water, rippling softly through the inner workings of her head. His voice was like a balm to her and it broke her stiffened stance as she turned to face him. Jaime’s initial look of enquiry and concern melted into one of distress as he took in her tear ridden face.

“He told you.” Sansa said nothing, continuing to stare at him, her expression unreadable. “I’m sorry; I should have been the one to tell you. I tried to get here first,” Jaime explained. “I didn’t want for you to hear of it. Not from him, anyway.”

Jaime hesitated initially, but swiftly walked towards her. He observed her carefully for any kind of volatile reaction. When he received none, he pulled her towards him, wrapping his long arms around her torso. Sansa let go, allowing herself the comfort of his arms although her heart screamed at her to push him away. Her pain did not let her forget that he was a Lannister, but Sansa’s need for comfort won out.

“I know you’re hurting, Sansa. I can’t imagine what you are going through but I am here and Tyrion is here, as much as you might hate us and we will protect you. You are _not_ alone, Sansa,” he implored. “Do you hear me? I understand you hate me but my promise to your mother still stands and I will get you home.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Jaime looked up in surprise. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“I do _not_ hate you. I hate your father. I hate your sister. I hate your son.” Jaime blanched at her words but she looked set to continue, so he asked the question before she could avoid it. _She knows._

“You know?” He murmured shamefully. “You know about Joffrey?”

“I know about all of them. What transpired to create them was every kind of wrong and I used to scorn both you and her for it, but it is obvious that you did it out of love and I cannot fault either of you for _that_. I will always hate Joffrey and Cersei for what they have done to me. I cannot, however, bring myself to hate you or Tyrion – neither of you has ever done anything to hurt me. Nor can I condemn Myrcella or Tommen – they are innocent from the crimes of your family and their parentage does not define them. This does not mean I care about you, but nor do I hate you and right now, you are my only chance to return home." She paused hesitantly, considering her words. "And you are my friend.”

Jaime, aghast from her speech, nodded, well aware that she should by all rights hate him for all his grievances against her family. _If she knew how I pushed her brother from that tower she would not be anywhere near me._ Instead, Jaime held her in his arms. Right now, he was going to be there for her, even if she would come to hate him later, when - eventually - she would find out the truth.

“I hate Joffrey as much as you and believe me, Sansa, I regret his birth. Such a monster should not have been allowed to exist. I love Tommen and Myrcella and I would love them more if I could.” Sansa looked at him in something he could almost describe as sympathy.

“If you truly want to know, Cersei and I are done. She betrayed me and neither can I find myself loving a woman who would allow the beating and mistreatment of another equally noble woman.”

Sansa basked once again in the indescribable joy to unfolding deep in her body, as when Tyrion had told her this. "Tyrion mentioned, that you and Cersei had... what she had done to you."

"I see. Well, it is over." The next thing he muttered almost to himself."Perhaps I am secretly blessed by it." Sansa did not have time to dwell on his quiet words for he began to tell her a story.

“Now then, if you want me to stay, then at least let me distract you from your grief.” Sansa looked at him quizzically, wondering what he was about, thus Jaime continued. “It is not so stupid to believe in knights and maidens. I suppose we were all young once – you and I both wanted to live in the songs. I had always wanted to be Arthur Dayne, you know? The Sword of the Morning was – to me – everything a perfect knight should be. I only joined the Kingsguard to be close to Cersei but it backfired when I learned Aerys had only accepted me to spite my father. Tywin Lannister lost his eldest son and his heir. I soon learned the truth about being a knight. I would stand outside the King’s chambers some most nights on guard duty. And as I stood there I listened as the King raped his wife and abused his marriage.” Sansa’s gave a little gasp of horror and he ran his hand over her arm.

“So you see, I can’t let another mad ruler abuse another highborn girl.”

“Did you never try to stop him?” Sansa asked.

“Oh,” Jaime laughed bitterly. “I wish I had. It is my greatest regret. I once asked Ser Barristan Selmy that very thing. I said ‘Shouldn’t we protect her’. It was our duty after all – to protect the King _and_ the Queen.  You know what he said?” Sansa shook her head. “He said, ‘Not from him. Not from the King’ and that was that. So you see, my lady, there is no honour in being a knight.”

“That’s not true,” she replied softly. “You are honourable. Not always and not in the past but now... you’re protecting me. If a Lannister protecting a Stark doesn’t prove that then maybe you are as blind as I thought you were,” she finished, a teasing laugh on her lips.

_I am not blind, sweet girl. If I was I wouldn’t be here right now and I would not care about you the way I do. I would not look at my brother and be jealous. By all rights I should not have any interest in you. And here I am, besotted with the woman my brother married._

“I should go,” Jaime said suddenly, disturbing Sansa’s relaxed position. “I have... things to attend to.” The look of disappointment on Sansa’s face was almost enough to make him change his mind, but the better part of him forced his conscience to abandon its guilt and dismiss the alluring spell that Sansa had cast over him. Before he could be tempted to stay, Jaime stood, gently removing Sansa from his grasp and leaving.

\-------

Sansa was confused. She had thought she and Jaime had been getting along so well, and now they had shared some time together, exchanged feelings, Sansa had believed she was beginning to trust him more and that they could even have a real friendship. _Apparently not._ She had to admit she was a little hurt at Jaime’s sudden absence. It was clear that his excuse was a false one and it hurt her to think Jaime did not want to remain with her. Despite his earlier confession that he and Cersei had parted ways, his abrupt departure made her wonder if perhaps it had been a lie. _For all you know, he is going to find her now, laugh at you behind your back and fuck her again._ Although, the very notion of them secretly mocking her was absurd even to Sansa’s own ears, she couldn’t dismiss the childish idea that his actions were all a pretence.

_Perhaps I was wrong to trust him._ She would just have to be more on her guard now. Sansa was in no way ready to make the same mistakes she had when she had told Cersei her father was planning to leave King’s Landing. She intended to survive, and survive she would, with or without the help of Jaime Lannister.

As if her mind was in the mood to torture her, Ser Jaime’s absence renewed afresh the torment brought on by the news of her family’s murder. As Sansa allowed her mind to dwell on the images of her mother’s neck slit open and her brother’s desecration, she fell further into an abyss of suffering from which it would be hard to escape.


	6. The Sun Will Rise Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unforgettable wedding and a complicated series of situations for Tyrion, Jaime and Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to take a moment to say how grateful I am to everyone reading this fic. Lately, I had a moment where I got so stressed about it and I kept thinking 'what's the point' but after some lovely comments, I cheered up and I even typed you up chapter while I was on holiday! 
> 
> As always, comments make me write more... yeah... (Okay, pretty please, just leave a comment - I love them!)

**The Sun Will Rise Again**

_"What's broken can be mended,_

_what's hurt can be healed,_

_no matter how dark it gets,_

_the sun's gonna rise again."_

 

                           _ **\- Grey's Anatomy**_

With the imminent approach of Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding, Sansa desired something to distract herself from her loneliness: she had not seen Jaime in days. It had seemed as if he cared for her company, but his abrupt departure and absence at her side clearly indicated otherwise. Sansa spent her time immersed in wedding preparation, distracting her also from the fate of her family.

Margaery hadn’t minded, seeming to understand Sansa’s desire to avoid the royal family and had given the girl tasks that kept her hidden away from prying eyes. Sansa had, for the last few days, been kept busy with dress alterations. Now, on the day of the wedding itself - as the future Queen began to be dressed in a splendid gown of lilac lace and silk - Sansa found herself arranging delicate flowers in the tumbling waterfall of brown curls that fell from Margaery’s head. When the Highgarden beauty had been dressed, she called for the simpering little maids swanning around her to leave. Sansa made to follow them, having just fixed the last petal in place, but instead Margery’s hand caught her wrist.

“Sansa, stay a moment. I wanted to speak with you.” Margaery guided her to sit down opposite her in a gilded chair. “Now, tell me what is wrong. I know the... that what has happened to your family has been weighing on your mind but Sansa I have never seen you look so despairing as you do now. There is something else, isn’t there?”

Sansa fiddled anxiously with her fingers. Margaery had been a wonderful friend to her, it was true, but she was to marry Joffrey and who knew what she might let slip to her new husband? What could Sansa tell this girl that would not come back to bite her later? She took her time answering, as Margaery watched her carefully.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with, truly Margaery. I am grieving and it will take time...” Even to herself, the lies and over-emphasis over the source of her distress sounded unconvincing. Margaery looked at her closely.

“And that explains why I saw Jaime Lannister leave your rooms the other night looking as if he was considering throwing himself from the walls of the Red Keep, no?” Sansa, had she been a little less guarded, might have let out a small gasp at this. Instead, she controlled herself, but clearly, the shock still surfaced on her face, for Margaery pounced.

“Sansa, I want you to tell me the truth. What is there between you and Jaime Lannister?”

Sansa looked aghast. Even Margaery could see it was no sham reaction. “Marge, there is nothing there! He swore to my mother that he would protect me...” Sansa’s voice broke a little before she recovered herself “...if she would free him from his imprisonment.”

“Sansa, you need not hide anything from me. I am your friend and nothing you say will leave this room.” Margaery squeezed her friend’s hand in earnest.

“How many times must I tell you?” Sansa insisted, sighing. “He is a Lannister, Margaery, how can you imagine I would ever love him?” Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, Sansa regretted them, for the smirk playing at her friend’s lips was unsettling.

_No one mentioned love, sweetling. Now, who put that idea in your pretty head, hmm?_

“If you excuse me, I ought to go and change for the wedding.” Without another word, Sansa practically ran out the room, fleeing what she knew would be another sly question from her dear friend.

On route to her chambers, Petyr Baelish appeared from an adjoining corridor. “Lady Sansa,” he murmured. Sansa wasn’t fond of the man, but he could be her only chance to make it home. _If Jaime cannot free me, how else could I possibly escape this place?_ So Sansa held in her dislike.

“Lord Baelish.” She gave him a small curtsey. Petyr smiled, although Sansa noted his eyes remained narrow and cold.

“Please, Sansa, how many times must I insist you call me Petyr.”

“I apologise... Petyr. I am so used to the formalities of court,” Sansa replied.

“I am so terribly sorry to hear of the tragedies that have struck you once again. I offer my most sincere condolences.”

“Thank you, Petyr. I... I have taken the time to properly acknowledge their departure.”

“Oh, come Sansa. I will not beat you for admitting you feel their absence most painfully. I am not a Lannister.” Littlefinger’s eyes gleamed as he said this.

“I... I do miss them, but I will survive,” Sansa managed, avoiding dwelling on the subject. “Is there some matter you wished to discuss with me?”

“Well, Sansa, I promised you I would give you time to think on my offer, and I came to tell you that I have arranged your departure from the capital.” Sansa nodded, allowing him to continue. “The fool, Ser Dontos, will take you from the King’s wedding in a few hours and escort you to a ship where I will be waiting and I will take you to your home. I wish I could take you to your mother... but I promised her I would look out for you, and that I will. You could be home, at Winterfell.”

“Yes.”

“So you will do as I say? You agree?” he asked, staring intently at her. Sansa looked up at him.

“I agree. I want to be free of this wretched city.” Sansa would not have been so tempted, she thought, had Jaime not been so fickle in his promises towards her. _Why can he not just take me home now,_ Sansa thought bitterly. _If he would help me then I would leave with him but now I am forced to trust Littlefinger._ Sansa had to admit to herself that time was running out – she could not wait for Jaime forever. And Littlefinger stood here offering her an escape.

“Oh and Sansa?” he called out. Sansa turned to acknowledge him. “Wear the hairnet Lady Olenna gifted you for your last nameday. It suits you.”

_What choice do I have?_

\--------------

As Sansa walked beside Tyrion she remembered how nervous she’d been at her own wedding. By contrast, Margaery – from what she could gather – was much more composed. _And she to marry a monster. At least I was spared_ that _fate._ Sansa thanked the Gods everyday for bringing her a husband who, despite his name, treated her well. She knew that she would have flung herself from the highest tower if she had ended up married to the King. 

Tyrion spotted Jaime and they made their way to join him, taking their seats as the ceremony began. Cersei glared from beside Tywin but Sansa did not react as she once might have done, in fear and fright. She knew that if Cersei made any move towards her, she could rely on Brienne’s aid. _And Jaime’s? Would he turn against his sister – his former lover – to protect you?_ Sansa had no time to dwell on this particular train of thought as the music started up and the blushing bride, Margaery, began to walk towards the steps, looking the part of the regal Queen-to-be in her gown. Sansa let her mind drift as the vows were exchanged. She was sandwiched rather awkwardly between the two brothers and as a result, accidentally brushed her hand against Jaime’s thigh, which caused him to look around at her quizzically. Mouthing a silent apology, she focused on the ceremony, but she did not miss Jaime’s smirk and later caught the roll of his eyes at the kiss between the new King and Queen when the ceremony began to draw to a close. _At least he is back to his usual teasing self._ Whatever had bothered Jaime when she had spoken to him in her quarters the other night had clearly passed. Sansa had to admit that her rash assumption that Jaime had resumed his old relationship with Cersei was very likely untrue. She did not take him for a man that would simply jump back into bed with the woman that had betrayed him. She was still confused about the apparent sadness on Jaime's face as he had left her chambers.  _What on earth did Marge mean by that?_

At long last, when the ceremony was over, was a break for the guests to freshen up before the feast and Sansa followed Tyrion back to their rooms to change quickly into more festive clothing for the feast. When they returned, all three of them were seated on the dias. Tyrion - who had already started drinking and was well on his way to being drunk – was trying his best to start a drinking game with Jaime. When he brother eventually relented and picked up his wine, Tyrion began to turn on Sansa.

“Now, come on Lady Stark, let your inhibitions go and indulge in a drink with the disgraced Lannister brothers!” Tyrion encouraged, refilling his own glass and downing it in one fell swoop. Jaime merely rolled his eyes and gulped down his own drink.

“Come on, Sansa. It will at least make the wedding bearable,” Jaime murmured, smiling at her as she picked up the glass and swallowed. “After all, we Lannisters cannot be seen to be the _only_ ones drinking... it isn’t good for our image.”

Sansa spluttered in laughter. “Your image... oh don’t make me laugh, everyone knows the Lannister family consists solely of drunkards. The sight of a Stark drinking will not alter that!” Sansa continued to laugh; unaware of quite how much the sound ground at the depths of Jaime’s heart. _She should be laughing like that every moment of her life: instead she’s here, at the mercy of these cruel people._

Sansa found unexpectedly, in that moment, that she had been happier than she had been in a long time. _I haven’t laughed like this since my father died._ She began to think she had been wrong to agree to Lord Baelish’s plan – perhaps it had been a hasty descision. If she had Jaime and Tyrion, and Margaery as her companion, then King’s Landing could be survived - and Jaime deserved to have her trust. If she left now, she would betray him and he could not fulfil his vow – a vow she could see was important to him. Besides, she selfishly did not wish to be parted from any of them. Marge was her friend and she would need support, especially married to Joffrey. Tyrion was bound to her by their marriage and they were friends, and Jaime too her friend and protector. He had brought her such happiness that she knew the debt must be repaid. _I can trust them._ Sansa knew that now. No part of her doubted their sincerity anymore. _If they wished to hurt me, they would have done so long ago_

Tyrion’s remarks drifted across the table. “What a bloody boring ceremony...” the dwarf mumbled, on the verge of incoherence. “I wanted to kill myself I swear, although that is perhaps a waste of my talents...”

Jaime smiled at his brother fondly. “I’d hate to lose my only other ally, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“We’ll we’re nearly done, let’s just hope I can last the feast... I’ll just drink myself into oblivion...” He was cut off as Joffrey stood up, smiling gleefully and Sansa tensed.

“Thank you all for such a _gracious_ reception. The Queen and I are very grateful. However, I have one surprise in thanks to you all.” Joffrey turned around, gesturing excitedly. “Enter.”

To everyone’s astonishment, a gaggle of dwarves entered with props and proceeded to line up in the centre of the hall. All wore armour and had swords and shields bearing sigils from the great houses of Westeros.

“Uncle Tyrion, why don’t you join in? Perhaps this is a fight you can win?” Joffrey mocked. Sansa could almost see what was about to happen and felt sick to her stomach. To either side she saw Jaime clench his fist and Tyrion tense.

“No, thank you, your Grace,” Tyrion responded calmly.

“But they’re just right for you... small and stupid.”

 _No, that’s you. But you’ll never stop hurting people will you? Not while you are King._ Sansa felt such hatred of this bastard king, more now that he was attacking the people she had come to care about.

“You Grace, thank you, but no,” Tyrion stated firmly. Joffrey looked as if he was going to shout but restrained himself and sat down, waiting for the ‘entertainment’ to begin. Jaime looked at his brother and nodded nervously, releasing the fists he hadn’t releasing he had clenched.

Then Jaime saw it and knew Sansa had to when she flinched suddenly. _No..._ Jaime sucked in a breath as he saw the dwarf brandishing the shield with the Stark direwolf and wondered how he ever could have fathered such a monstrosity. _I’ve killed and hurt people, but not this. Not destroying people from the inside out._

The dwarves began to fight and Jaime wrapped his arm around Sansa protectively as he saw her face crumble with sadness. He wasn’t about to let her sit and suffer without comfort. As it was, no one noticed, until Cersei smirked in their direction, her satisfaction melting as she took in the sight of Sansa enclosed in Jaime’s arms. Jaime was angrier than he had ever been. They could do nothing but watch as the War of the Five Kings was replayed before their eyes in the most hurtful, mocking joke. As the ‘Robb’ dwarf was beheaded and donned a fake wolf’s head, Jaime shook with uncontrolled rage. He could feel Sansa’s hand shaking in his and Jaime pulled her tighter against him. The sorrow on her face was clear, even if she had managed to hold in her tears. He suppressed the urge to pull her closer, releasing Sansa from his hold but continued to hold her hand in his. It wouldn’t do to let everyone see how much affection he held for the Stark girl. Jaime let the malice in his gaze flare across the room towards Joffrey and Cersei.

When the display was finished he didn’t let go of Sansa’s hand. He saw his brother’s pale face and Joffrey stand up to make another speech again, throwing money at the dwarves and dismissing them swiftly, before his eyes narrowing as he took in the reactions of his Uncle and Aunt. Jaime was glad that despite her distress, Sansa was defiantly staring back.

“Uncle, how about you bestow me the honour of being my cupbearer? Since you refused to take part in my _wonderful display._ ” Tyrion stood firmly, glaring.

“I believe I show you enough honour from where I am, Your Grace,” Tyrion stated evenly. “I am not worthy...”

“It was not a request!” Joffrey spat, his mood darkening. “I _command_ you.”

Tyrion flicked his gaze around analysing the situation carefully before slowly and reluctantly approaching the King. Joffrey thrust his goblet into Tyrion’s hands. “Fill my cup,” he commanded.

Tyrion took it and gritting his teeth, proceeded to fill it. Jaime felt pained as he watched his brother. Once Tyrion had passed the goblet to Joffrey, he took a gulp of wine and swaggered towards Margaery. He was about to make another comment when the servants rolled out the pie.

“Ah, the pie! About time...” Margaery cried joyously. Taking Joffrey’s hand, Margaery distracted him, shooting a worried glance at Sansa. In return, Sansa smiled, thankful for the reprieve. They watched as Joffrey his new Valyrian steel blade high into the air and bought it down on the pie. When it split, a cluster of doves erupted from its centre to Maragery’s delighted squeal. Joffrey grinned and took a slice, passing a slice to his wife and proceeding to devour his own piece. He coughed and praised the bakers for the cake, Tyrion forgotten for the moment.

Then Joffrey coughed again, rubbing his throat and Jaime knew something was wrong. He coughed a few times and then he made a high pitched gasp and he saw Maragery’s face fall.

“He’s choking!” He heard the new Queen scream and saw Cersei rush past Margaery to her son as he fell, ignoring the woman’s frightened cries. Jaime looked on in shock and saw Sansa agape, her face pale. He stood up and rushed over towards Joffrey and tried to hit the boy on the back, to stop whatever it was that was causing him to choke, but when he saw the blood begin to run, Jaime knew he had been poisoned.

Sansa was stunned in disbelief. The horror of the situation, the surprise... she could never have imagined such a scene. As she watched, a man ran up to her side.

“Lady Sansa, come with me!”

Confused, Sansa pulled out of his sudden grip on her arm. “Who are...” Sansa began, her mind unable to process what was happening. “Wait... you... Ser Dontos...”

“Yes, now come with me, My Lady, before someone sees you leave.”

Sansa was in turmoil. _I cannot go now. I... I swore to myself I would not leave them._ She looked longingly at Jaime and Tyrion, and at Margaery who continued to scream.

Sansa turned back to Ser Dontos. “I cannot go with you, Ser. I am sorry.”

“Lady Sansa, you _must_!” he insisted, looking at her imploringly as he continued to try and pull her from the dias.

“ _No,_ ” she insisted. Ser Dontos continued to try and take her until he swore and gave up, making his exit towards the docks. Sansa watched him leave, feeling as though she had made the right choice. Slowly, she turned back to the horrific scene.

Cersei was now crying slowly, begging someone to save her son and the crowd was aghast. He heard Joffrey’s voice get higher and thinner as he convulsed on the ground until he gave a trembling gasp and stilled. If he had not known the boy was dead, he knew it when he heard Cersei’s scream and saw her pull her son against her.

“Let him go. Let him go, Cersei. There’s nothing you can do now.” He heard his father say as Jaime stood up in shock.

“No! No, my son is dead! My first son...” She sobbed, screaming. Eventually they pried her away from him, still sobbing. Tywin shot Jaime a look that he couldn’t quite place as he had the guards remove the King’s body. Jaime was about to go back to Sansa and Tyrion, who were stood in shock, when he heard Cersei’s next words and felt his blood freeze.

“It was him! He killed him! That little monster who murdered our mother!” Cersei bit out angrily. Jaime reached forwards and grabbed her arm.

Jaime’s face widened. “What are you doing?!” Cersei ignored him and dragged her arm out of his grip.

“And the Stark girl too! He and Sansa plotted this together. I know it. They both hated him.” She shot Jaime a tear stained glare. “Arrest them both.” Jaime stumbled in shock as guards moved towards Tyrion and Sansa. He saw Tyrion look at him in disbelief as the guards grabbed him and heard Sansa cry out.

“No! I didn’t do this... please... ” The panic was evident in her voice and it touched his bones. Jaime strode towards them as Sansa wrestled with the guards. Tyrion had given up and was letting them take him away. He began to fight them, pushing against them in anger.

“Jaime.” His father’s warning tone made him relent, but so full of rage was he that he rounded on Tywin Lannister.

“You would let them arrest an innocent girl? Gods, Sansa may be a Stark but she is no killer and she would never kill the King, of all people – she knows what you would do to her. As for Tyrion, I cannot understand how you can allow your own son to be arrested for a crime he would never commit. Do you not see that if either of them had the absurd notion to kill the King, they would still be here?”

Tywin stared at him coldly. “Silence, Jaime.”

“What must I say to convince you of their innocence!”

“Nothing!” Tywin roared. “Nothing you say can convince me of that. Only a trial can. But I do not believe Lady Sansa is guilty.”

“Release her, and take Lord Tyrion to the tower cells.”

The guards released Sansa roughly and Jaime grabbed her, pulling her towards him. She clutched his arm as they watched Tyrion being dragged away. Jaime felt sick: his son had died but he didn’t feel anything for him. He had felt _nothing_ until Sansa had nearly been arrested and Tyrion had been taken away and he had known suddenly what it would feel like to lose those he loved. _I cannot lose my brother. I cannot lose either of them._ Jaime looked down at Sansa and felt a rush of thankfulness that Sansa at least was not being dragged off to a cold, dark cell.

_But what about Tyrion?_

\-----

Sansa was shaking as Jaime’s guards escorted her from the room. Although worried for herself – Cersei had just tried to have her arrested for Kingslaying – Sansa worried far more about Tyrion and Jaime. Tyrion would be executed and Sansa wasn’t stupid enough to think Cersei would spare Tyrion’s life for his ‘crime’. Jaime, on the other hand, would be dangerously emotional. Sansa had been truly frightened when Cersei had ordered her arrested but as soon as Jaime had insisted she was innocent and Tywin and released her, she had felt a crashing sense of relief. Sansa was starting to understand the lengths to which Jaime would go to protect her.

She had nothing to do once she got back to her and Tyrion’s rooms and curled up on the bed, waiting. She was staring into space, anxiously fingering the sheets, when she heard the door latch click and saw Jaime slip in quietly. He walked silently over to the bed and sat down beside her.

“What is going to happen to Tyrion?” She whispered gently as she looked at him.

“My father needs a scapegoat and Tyrion serves a purpose.” Jaime spat bitterly. “Even if he didn’t want Tyrion dead, which I cannot completely doubt, he cannot stop Cersei and she will never let him go free – she’s always hated him, ever since we were children and this is just an excuse to hurt him. And me.”

Sansa smiled softly at him. “Thank you for defending me, Jaime, I did not think you would go to such lengths to protect me, but I must ask, why _did_ your father let me go? If Cersei wants me dead...”

“I don’t really think he would put Cersei’s wants above his own quest for power: he needs you to control the North, no matter what Tyrion’s fate may be.” Jaime paused, looking at her intently. “You know, Sansa, I would have fought to keep you from being arrested – I don’t care about my father, or Cersei, or controlling the North – I swore to protect you.”

“I know, Jaime. I believe you.” _How much have I longed to hear her say those three words,_ Jaime thought, wholeheartedly relieved that Sansa was able to fully trust him.

“You won’t let Tyrion die, will you?” she asked waveringly.

Jaime shook his head at her. “No. Whatever happens, he is my brother and I will not let him suffer such a fate.” Jaime looked down. “And he did not kill Joffrey.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I am certain it was Olenna Tyrell.”

Sansa gasped. “Why would she poison the King?”

“She didn’t want her granddaughter married to a vicious bastard, I suppose.”

Sansa hesitated, looked down and then her breath hitched and she ran her hands over her hair, removing her hairnet. Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. “What is it?”

“For my... my nameday, Lady Olenna gifted me this hairnet... and Lord Baelish told me to wear it to the wedding today...” They both hesitated, considering the hairnet in Sansa’s palms until Jaime snatched it from her hands and threw it into the hearth where it was quickly consumed by flames.

Sansa looked at him, her brows furrowed. “I needed to destroy it Sansa: somehow, the poison was in that net, I’m certain. And I won’t have it found and used against you. Cersei will do her very best to find something to implicate you and I won’t let her,” Jaime explained.

“She will want Tyrion dead,” he continued. “I will not lose my brother, whatever it takes she is not having his head.” Jaime looked furious at the thought.

Sansa nodded. “I don’t want to lose him either. He’s been a good friend to me.”

“I know, he has Sansa... and I owe him. A debt... from many years ago.” Sansa’s frown incited further clarification. “I told a great lie to Tyrion. One I can never forgive myself for.” Sensing the matter was closed, Sansa changed the subject.

“Jaime... I’m glad he’s dead.” She whispered against his chest. “I’m sorry, I know he was your...”

“No, Sansa, don’t be sorry. He hurt you and if he had hurt you again I would have killed him myself. I almost wish I had. I’m sorry you have such a merciless protector.” He smirked, although his eyes remained downcast. “Sansa... and you mustn’t repeat this to _anyone_... I think my father may have played a part in this.”

“But why would he go to such lengths to kill his own son. He hates Tyrion, but why kill the King to kill Tyrion?”

“I don’t know, Sansa. I sorely hope I am wrong.”

“Couldn’t we help Tyrion, at the trial?” Sansa tried.

“No. If my father will be judging Tyrion and he will never allow you or me to accuse him, nor will the Tyrells allow themselves to be found guilt. It’s too dangerous. The best thing we can do is help Tyrion escape when he is sentenced.”Jaime reluctantly pulled away from her. “I’m going to visit Tyrion and see what I can do for him before the trial. I want you to stay here and Brienne will guard you – after the wedding, I don’t want you any more in danger than you have to be.”

He leaned down to kiss her hand. “I’ll be back soon. Get some sleep.”

Sansa nodded and watched him go. As she thought about everything that had happened today she felt her body tremble but the time she had spent in King’s landing forced her fears to disappear and now she felt more in control of her emotions. At least she wasn’t alone. Even if she only had a Lannister for comfort, it was Jaime and he would never hurt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are typos - I'm honestly too tired to proof-read it properly :(


	7. Lemon Cakes and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime visits his brother and bumps into an unexpected aquaintance, Cersei threatens and Sansa enjoys a sweet treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to the lovely siriuslydraco/winterjons, my dear friend Taylor who has being musing like mad with me these last few days! I hope you enjoy this love x

**Lemon Cakes and Confessions**

_"True confessions are_ _written with tears only._

 _But my tears would_ _drown the world,_

 _a_ s _my inner fire_

_would reduce it to ashes."_

_**\- Emil Cioran**  
_

 

Tyrion’s wellbeing had become Jaime’s primary concern, now that he had assured Sansa’s safety by entrusting her to the care of Brienne. He knew Sansa would be safe under her attentive and watchful eye, and she would need to be so: Cersei’s accusations and the wedding could only mean she wanted Sansa dead, now more than ever 

Jaime found his way to the cells, determined to talk to Tyrion. His brother needed his help. Although he had worried his father may have restricted Tyrion’s visitors, Jaime was pleased to find that the guards needed little persuasion, and Jaime swiftly descended the dark stairs to find his brother, but no sooner than he entered the cluster of cells than he found himself sidelined by the unaccountable appearance of Margaery Tyrell.

Brushing aside his surprise, Jaime made a point to engage Margaery in conversation. _Wh_ _at in Seven Hells brings her down here?_

 “Lady Margaery... I am so very sorry for your loss,” Jaime began, although he knew Margaery felt absolutely no sorrow at her husband’s death. “It must be hard for you.” Jaime could hardly keep the sarcasm from his tone.

Clearly, the girl was in no mood to play games, for not one fake tear fell from her narrowing brown eyes. “And you, Ser Jaime, you must feel the loss of your son greatly?” Jaime could have growled at her suppressed smirk and the mirth in her tone. _Oh, very clever._ But neither was he in the mood for games.

“I cannot image where you appear to have heard the vile rumour about my sister and I but I can assure you, that is what it remains,” he ground out. “Rumour.”

“As you say, Ser Jaime,” Margaery said, dripping sweetness. “Does Sansa know?” Before he could speak, his fists already tightening, she continued. “One ought to be more careful if one wishes to harbour an illicit relationship with his brother’s wife.”

“Nothing between Lady Sansa and I could possibly be deemed as illicit, my lady, but I thank you for your _consideration_ towards her wellbeing. It is curious to find anyone with such an avid interest in the dealings of one particular woman, is it not?”

“She is vulnerable, and someone must look out for her.”

“It seems she was not the only one you have a keen interest in. Is there a reason you were visiting Tyrion or, now Sansa is in, as you say, an illicit relationship with me, you feel the other brother is free and up for grabs,” Jaime spat. “After all if you lose marriages to two Kings, perhaps you feel settling for a Lannister is safer.” As Jaime finished, Margery’s features became tightened with controlled rage.

“If you must know, I have great respect for Tyrion Lannister – respect, I might add, that does not overstep the boundaries of our stations. I did not wish him to become a suspect in my late husband’s murder, thus I visited to him to see if I might aid him in any way. I know your sister will not let go of his guilt and I encouraged him to choose a trial by battle.”

Jaime regarded her suspiciously. “How long have you held ‘regard’ for Tyrion, might I ask?”

“I have been a friend to your brother for many months now.”

“I see,” Jaime replied evenly.

“I am not stupid, Ser Jaime, I know the feelings you hold for Sansa and I have no quarrel with it. I only worry for her safety if Cersei finds out how you feel. It may be that your sister already knows.”

“And do you plan on telling anyone?”

“Aside, from Tyrion, who told me, I have discussed it with no one and I do not intend to.”

“Fine. But betray Sansa or my brother and I will kill you.”

“I care about them too much for that. And I would expect no less.” Margaery made as if to leave but Jaime caught her arm.

“Did you kill Joffrey?”

“No.” Margaery’s tone left no doubt as to her innocence but nor did it invite further discussion on the matter and Jaime let her go.  Once she had departed, Jaime strode deeper into the network of cells. It did not take him long to spot Tyrion.

“Tyrion... how are you faring?”

“As well as can be expected, dear brother. Cersei has my days marked and for the remainder of those days, she would see me rot here until the moment when Ser Illyn separates my head from my short little body.” The hint of humour lay under his younger brother’s words but Jaime could not find it within himself to laugh.

“I will get you out of here,” he swore to his little brother, feeling a depth of sadness at Tyrion’s fate and revulsion at their sister’s treatment of him.

“Jaime, I am not quite sure if you remember, but you are standing in some of the strongest cells on this continent – and you only have one hand.” The two of them smiled despite the situation.

“I remember well enough, but I saw Lady Margaery leaving just now and she told me she had just advised you to choose a trial by battle.” Jaime explained, taking in his brother’s mournful face. “I must say I agree. Cersei will not allow you to be found innocent. It is your best hope and perhaps your only one. I would have fought for you, but I fear I could not hold a hope of defeating anyone anymore.” Both brothers’ eyes fell upon the dull golden hand.

“Jaime, do not worry about me. It should be Sansa you watch out for,” Tyrion said in earnest, his tone leaving no room to question the severity of the warning.

Jaime chuckled. “You’re not the only one to say it. Margaery has already made sure I watch her.”

Tyrion stared unblinkingly at his brother and Jaime’s laughs disappeared. “It is no jest, Jaime. Sansa is in danger and I would not see her harmed. The poor girl has already had enough misfortune.”

“Tyrion, she is being looked after by Brienne. She is in no danger.”

“Cersei will find a way. And threats are emerging from all sides. Have you told her yet?”

“Told her what?” Jaime asked, not willing to admit to his cowardice.

“You stupid dolt, you know what I mean,” Tyrion muttered, rolling his eyes. “You need to tell her. She will need you now more than ever and besides, if I see you looking longingly at each other one more goddamn time I swear I will hit both your heads together.”

“I can’t. After all I’ve done to her family... pushing her brother from that tower. And besides, she is _your_ wife.”

“Sansa is as much my wife as Olenna Tyrell is our father’s. Jaime, you can’t honestly imagine I would forbid you and Sansa happiness. I have Shae... well, I did... she has been disappearing oft of late... but Jaime, Sansa and I will never love each other. And you _do_ love her.”

“If she ever found out about her brother...”

“Then, tell her,” Tyrion responded. “In time, she may forgive you but if you keep it from her you will lose every bit of the trust you have gained from her.”

Jaime sighed. “I know, I will. Soon. I promise.”

“Now, brother,” Jaime continued, smiling a little, “how about you take a little advice from Margaery and I and accept the trial by battle? I can try to find someone to stand for you..”

“Jaime, I appreciate the offer but I shall remain as I am until my trial. Then I shall see about my fate. I only wish for a messenger: will my squire, Podrick, be allowed to come and go?”

“If you wish it, yes,” Jaime replied, then remembering something he had to do, he added, “Tyrion, what would make Sansa happy?”

Jaime saw a genuine smile brighten his brother’s face as he nodded to himself. “Lemon cakes. She loves lemon cakes. It is the only thing she would eat at our wedding.”

“Thank you, Tyrion. I shall see to your squire’s visits.”

“Thank you, brother.” Tyrion continued to smile at him and Jaime nodded, accepting that Tyrion was and had always been stubborn and would not sway his decision anytime soon. _I will help him after the trial though: whether he chooses combat or not._

Jaime had not investigated the extent of his brother’s relationship with Lady Margaery: he was far more preoccupied with Tyrion’s fate, but he knew he would have to look into the matter at some point. He believed Margaery when she said they were friends, but with the news of Shae’s absences lately, he saw a potential issue should the Tyrell’s try to use Tyrion for their own gain – whether as a scapegoat in Joffrey’s murder or for some other plot or purpose. As much as Jaime believed in the Tyrell girl’s sincerity, he couldn’t help but be sceptical. 

After both Tyrion and Margaery’s warnings, Jaime’s anxiety over Sansa’s safety nagged at the back of his mind and he made haste in his trip to the sept. As ‘uncle’ and the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Jaime was expected to visit the King’s body at least once, although he cared nothing for the boy and would sooner leave him to rot.

Tywin had summoned Jaime before the wedding to dissolve his affiliation to the Kingsguard. He had summoned a crowd of witnesses, the late King and the High Septon. The short ceremony had ensured Jaime was now free of his vows and able to marry whatever woman his father would line up for him – but Jaime had only thought of Sansa. _You stupid fool._ Although he had thought he would regret his dismissal, the smirk on Joffrey’s face as he appointed Ser Meryn Trant as Lord Commander in his place had been the only bad outcome. Jaime had found that despite his initial reluctance to leave, the freedom he had allowed him to spend more time with Sansa which, compared to guarding Joffrey, was like entering the Seven Heavens.

Jaime was so absorbed in his own musings that he did not notice his sister’s presence. Cersei – as regal as ever, although tearstained – hovered over her son’s body. _Our son,_ his mind hissed, as he argued to himself that Joffrey had only ever been hers. _He was no son of mine._

“My poor boy...” Jaime hesitantly approached her. The sight of her inflamed his anger, as he remembered how she had arrested Tyrion and thrown him into a dank cell, and her bitter accusations towards Sansa.

“I am sorry for your loss, sister. The Kingdom mourns.” The lie slipped easily from his lips, although perhaps there was some truth to it. He did not wish her this pain, as much as he felt rage towards her. He would not wish the loss of a child upon any mother, yet found it hard to himself mourn the loss of this despicable creature who had hurt his loving brother and the woman he cared for.

“As if you care,” she spat, her own anger clear. “You defended them! That hateful man who calls himself our brother and that murderous whore.”

Jaime felt himself snap. “Cersei, this is ridiculous! You know they are not murderers.”

“Tyrion has hated Joff since the day he was born,” Cersei hissed. “And Sansa is a spiteful little bitch who wants revenge for her family’s downfall.”

“Downfall? Cersei, our family had them murdered! And Sansa would not be so stupid as to endanger her life by seeking revenge. Tyrion neither.”

“That’s right... you would know all about what _Sansa_ is thinking wouldn’t you. You’ve spent enough time with her.” Cersei’s eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth twisting. “I saw you two at the Wedding. Perhaps you should have married her if you want to fuck her so much.” Jaime’s face twisted in rage and he slapped her. Cersei recoiled but remained smirking.

“So I was right. You do want to fuck her,” Cersei snarled. “Raise a hand to me again and I will see you punished. And make no mistake; Sansa will be punished for her role in my son’s murder, no less than than our bastard brother, whether she is on trial or not.”

“You’ll never lay a hand on her. I swore I would protect her. I will not break that oath.”

“You seemed to have no trouble breaking the other ones.”

“We’re done here.” Jaime stormed towards the doors, seething. He stopped at Cersei’s voice.

“Does she know? About us? About how you pushed her little brother out a window and crippled him?” He could sense Cersei’s satisfaction and his fight tightened. “I suppose she does not.”

“Goodbye, Cersei.” Jaime strode out through the doors as the tinkling sound of his sister’s laugh followed him mockingly down the hall.

\------

Since the days of her marriage, she, Tyrion and Jaime had frequently supped together. Tyrion’s jokes and the subsequent laughter that accompanied them had proven a distraction from more unpleasant thoughts. They had all enjoyed each other’s company and though the tales the brothers shared were, at times, perhaps a little inappropriate, Sansa had cherished the time she spent with her husband and her friend.  She had frequently spent afternoons in her husband’s company while Jaime trained. In these fleeting hours they discussed the old tales, of Valyria and the fall of Kings, and when Jaime returned from training, they ate together.  They could forget about the War or the danger of King’s Landing and talk instead about the latest court gossip or their childhood tales – for a moment living in a world sweeter than their own.

Now Tyrion was shut into a cold and gloomy cell and neither Jaime nor Sansa could feel any joy in their meal. However, determined as he was to bring Sansa some measure of happiness, Jaime had arranged for the Kitchens to send up a plate of lemon cakes for her. If he could not tell her how much he cared for her in words, he could only hope that a small surprise would bring something sweet to the glum mood that had smothered their lives. Jaime was still not ready to admit he was responsible for crippling Brandon Stark and he couldn’t bear to lose Sansa, nor make her unhappier than she already was, so he let all his confessions – guilty and romantic – go unsaid.

“Sansa...” Jaime began, breaking the strange silence that had enveloped the room. “If you want to talk to me, you know you can. I do not wish for you to suffer alone.” _I do not wish for you to suffer at all._

“Thank you, Jaime. Truly, I wish I could tell you, but if I talk about it, it would only serve to torment me further. Some things I wish to forget,” she added, in a tone that was so heartbroken that Jaime wished for nothing more than for her nightmares to become monsters, so that he might fight and kill every last one of them.

“Then, if you wish for a distraction, how about these,” Jaime replied, smiling as Sansa looked at him, brows furrowed. With slight flourish – for he was Jaime Lannister, after all – he pulled away the cloth, revealing the dish of lemon cakes. Sansa’s eyes widened as she looked at him in equal measures of happiness and astonishment.

“Jaime...” Sansa whispered, tears hovering at the edge of her eyes. “How did you know I would like them?”

“Tyrion.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I asked him when I visited him what would make you happy and he told me you adored lemon cakes.”

“You shouldn’t have spent your time asking him trivial things like that...” she murmured, although Jaime could see her heart wasn’t in the reprimand.

“Your happiness is not trivial.” He wanted to add that nothing about her was trivial, but such thoughts were only meant for the most secretive recesses of his heart.

He could only sit there grinning like a fool as Sansa’s smile widened and she took a cake. Jaime took one for himself. He didn't particularly find lemon cakes appealing, but he wanted to share this moment with her. He paused momentarily, watching the pleasure wash across her tender features as she savoured the sweet treat. Shaking his head at her innocence, Jaime missed the playful swat from the lady in question and cried out as she delivered a weak blow to his upper arm.

“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered shaking her head, but the smile lingered.

“How?! I just brought you lemon cakes!” he bantered back with playful annoyance.

“Using the lure of cake to find an excuse to laugh at me!”

“Oh, hush. You know,” he added, smirking, “you shouldn’t provoke a knight. I am, after all, much stronger than you. Perhaps, if you don’t shut that wild northern mouth, I shall have to shut it for you.”

“Make me.” The childish impudence made Jaime laugh, partly in response to her immature comeback, yet also at the thought of making her shut up – namely, by kissing her on those very same wild lips.

Jaime went to eat his own cake, now Sansa had actually let him, having given up in their banter. Unable to resist seeing her reaction he stared her as he brought the cake to his lips. Sansa watched him as he ate it. Siezing the opportunity to provoke her further, he faked a coughing fit and pretended to choke on the cake.

“How can you eat these sickening things?” Sansa rolled her eyes at him as he winked at her and ceased his mock coughing fit.

“Actually, I love them because when I first came here, it was the first time I ever had them. Up in the North, we couldn’t get lemons and so they became a novelty of the south. Like so many other things.” She paused, fingers fiddling with her skirt. “There are a lot of things that became novelties here. I was a stupid little girl.” Jaime frowned at her darkening mood and reached out to cup her chin and lift it until she was looking at him.

“Sansa, you were _not_ a stupid little girl.”

“Jaime, I thought I would marry the King, be a beautiful Queen whom the people would love and be admired forever, like in the songs. How did that turn out?”

“You suffered a great deal and your life was a thousand times different to what you ever imagined, but Sansa, you are beautiful and loved and you are alive. What has happened to you and your family is horrific but at least you are sitting here and not lying in some cold crypt. Perhaps the stories are not true, but if so, maybe we ought to write our own.”

Sansa was staring at him now, in such a way that he could not bring himself to break the gaze he held. As he reached the depths of blue, he felt suddenly uncomfortable and pulled his head away, letting his hand fall from where it had continued to rest on her cheek. Jaime drew back. _I shouldn’t have said all that._ Feeling that he’d finally crossed the line, he made as if to leave but Sansa grasped as his sleeve and he turned to look at her. The pleading in her face almost made him collapse.

“Stay. Please,” she whispered, staring at him. “I feel safer when you are here.”

“Alright. I’ll sleep in the in the solar.” Sansa nodded and walked towards the bed, begnning to unlace her dress. “Do you want me to call your handmaid?” he called.

“No, thank you.”

Jaime fell silent and made for the solar. He was not wearing his armour thankfully, but a leather overcoat, which he took off, choosing to sleep in his breeches and tunic. He could change in the morning. Jaime lay on the bed, listening for the sounds of Sansa’s breathing to change so he could be sure she was asleep. Soon enough, he heard her soft breaths fade and peeked round the doorway to see if she was comfortable. Sansa was curled up in bed with the covers wrapped around her and her red hair spread across the pillow. Jaime leaned against the doorway and, knowing it was the only way he could ever say it, murmured:

“I’m sorry I love you Sansa, although it is better that I cannot say it. You should have the love of a gentle, honourable man who does not endanger your life with every affection he holds for you. I wish you could love such a man and yet I am selfishly thankful you do not. You deserve better than me, sweet girl.” Jaime crossed the room, letting his hand brush across her cheekbone and leaving her one last look of adoration and pain before he retired to bed. _I love you, Sansa._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He finally said it! and some possible Tyrion/Margaery brewing :)
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! I'm so happy with how much you guys have been reviewing this work - I never normally get many reviews so I'm really happy! And, of course, if you wanna leave more...
> 
> ;)


	8. Trials of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa consults her friends and goes through trials in more than one way.

**Trials of the Heart**

_We hide our emotions_

_Under the surface_

_And try to pretend_

_..._

_I want to_

_And I always will_

_**\- Oceans by Seafret** _

 

After everything that had happened the previous day, Sansa had slept well through the night and woken to find Jaime gone. The note he’d left explained that he was going to talk to his father and Cersei, then train for a while.

Tyrion had become a good friend to her and she had come to enjoy his company the more time she spent with him. Her preconceptions about his disfigurement were long gone and she valued him as a good friend. It wasn’t just Jaime who wanted to save him – Sansa had told herself that she was going to help Tyrion, if the trial ended badly. _It is something my parents would have done. Not help a Lannister, but to save an innocent. To save those they love, their own family. Tyrion is my family now, and he doesn’t deserve to die._

Sansa was well aware that she was using Tyrion’s situation as a distraction from what she had heard last night, but truthfully, she was not able to process Jaime’s words. A declaration of love – albeit one that she had not been meant to hear – was not what she had been expecting. In her heart, Sansa supposed she should have suspected it. The closeness between herself and Jaime had been building for weeks. It was inevitable.

_But I am married, and to his brother, of all people, and I care for him a lot but I would never betray my vows, nor give myself to the enemy._ Except Jaime wasn’t the enemy. Sansa recalled Tyrion’s words to her before their marriage, when they agreed to play along with the farce in return for their own marital freedoms. Tyrion had said that he had a lover, one Sansa knew to be Shae, and that she was free to find her own. All the same, Sansa felt guilty about seeking comfort with Tyrion’s brother, yet a part of her longed to remain by Jaime’s side, despite his family and his past affair with Cersei.  _Perhaps I really do love Jaime Lannister_

Confused and uncertain, Sansa decided she ought to go and see Tyrion. She had never known the little man to give bad advice before. Whatever, happened, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Jaime she had heard. Not yet.

Sansa looked forward to seeing Tyrion. She had, despite Jaime’s care, felt lonely. Tyrion was imprisoned, Margaery was busy with the trial and Shae had disappeared. After her visit to her husband, she planned on meeting with Marge whilst Jaime was occupied.

Visiting Tyrion was surprisingly simple. The guards seem to have given up with keeping visitors out and Sansa waltzed in, quickly locating her husband.

“Tyrion,” she murmured, taking in his unkempt appearance. “How are you faring?”

“As well as can be expected with my sweet sister holding an axe over my neck,” he joked, smiling. “I think you came here for another reason than my wellbeing, though, Sansa?” Tyrion raised his eyebrow.

“Why do you always know, Tyrion,” she sighed, sitting down on the floor. Sansa looked up at him.

Tyrion noted the look in her eyes and nodded. “Jaime told you.”

“Not in so many words.” Tyrion’s frown prompted her to continue. “He admitted his feelings while he thought I was asleep and was gone when I woke. He doesn’t know I heard and I have no idea what to say to him. I can’t help feeling guilty either, because he’s your brother and I just...”

“Sansa, calm down. Breathe. You have nothing to be guilty for. You love Jaime, you should tell him.”

“Tyrion...”

“Don’t worry about me, I have Shae... or I used to, anyway...”

Sansa shot him a hopeful look. “You have Margaery.”

“Jaime told you?” Tyrion echoed as Sansa nodded in confirmation. “I don’t know if Jaime knows how I feel about her... but you know her better than me. I can only hope she feels the same admiration for me that I feel for her. In time, if we are not dead, perhaps...”

“But Shae..?”

“I love Shae... but I care about Margaery too.” Sansa reached through the bars to grasp Tyrion’s hand.

“It will be alright, Tyrion, I promise,” she assured him.

“Then promise me something in return, Sansa? Promise me you will tell Jaime the truth and make him tell you his sins... you need to know those if you want to... understand one another. You need each other, now more than ever. I would not see either of you harmed,” Tyrion squeezed her hand. He hoped Jaime would tell Sansa about her brother. If Jaime truly wished to have this relationship with her, she had to know from him the details of his sordid past.

“Watch over Margaery... although that girl can handle herself, and take care yourself too. Sansa, Cersei will want you both dead, especially if you show affection in public like you did at the wedding."

Sansa’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I know. But take care.”

Sansa let go of his hand and wished Tyrion goodbye as she stood to leave. Somehow, she was going to help not just Tyrion but Margery too. It was easy for her to see how the two might be suited and she hoped one day, they might have a chance to become closer.

Out in the gardens, Sansa spied her dearest friend gossiping with one of her many cousins. Margaery spotted her and she called out in greeting. Sansa approached the women, smiling, as Marge took her hand and lead her to the covered terrace where the Queen of Thorns sat.

“Lady Olenna,” Sansa greeted the older woman as she took her seat opposite

“Sansa, dear, how are you? We are quite in shock from that wedding. Awful, simply awful. I cannot imagine such a fate. Now, Sansa, we can trust you, my dear, and I hope you know you can trust us. My granddaughter speaks highly of you and I know you to have no kindness to the Lannisters after what they did to your family.”

“My lady...”

“Come now, child. You may speak the truth dear. These walls do not have ears.”

Sansa hesitated briefly, looking at Maragery. “It’s true... I am not sorry the King is dead. I am here to offer my sorrows, however, and to beg a favour.”

“Go on, Sansa,” Maragery prompted softly.

“Maragery, I know you hold some regard for Lord Tyrion in your heart and although you cannot make these feelings known, I know you believe in his innocence and wish for nothing more than to help him.”

“That is true... but no one can interfere in such a trial.” The tone in Margaery’s voice was one of warning and Sansa changed her line of questioning.

"I understand, but Tyrion is innocent..."

"Sansa... we cannot interfere."

“Very well," Sansa acknowledged, knowing she would find no aid with the Tyrells. "I am sure this trial will expose the innocence of Lord Tyrion or condemn him for his crimes. Whatever the outcome, the truth shall be known.” Sansa bit her lip, wondering if she had said too much. _If Olenna was involved... will she know I know and go after me?_

“Excuse me, Lady Olenna, I ought to return to my rooms.” Sansa stood and Maragery took her arm to escort her. Before she left the terrace, Lady Olenna spoke.

“Sansa... you are smarter than the court believes, but what can we do? I live my granddaughter... I know there are people better than Joffrey or Tommen. People she loves and would rather be with. But I cannot interfere. I will not put my family at risk.”

Sansa nodded. “As I will not put mine in danger.”

"As long as our house is not threatened, we will not confide these plans to enemy ears. Your secret is ours," Olenna smiled. Maragery led Sansa out.

“Sansa... I want to help, truly I do, but I have no say... my family...”

“Marge, I understand. I will make sure Jaime helps Tyrion.”

“Thank you,” Maragery breathed in relief. “Sansa, before you go, I want you to know that you and Jaime _are_ safe. My grandmother will say nothing of whatever plans you make, we will not betray your confidences. She was not lying."

Sansa hugged her and left without another word, thankful for her friend’s promise of secrecy and protection, and in knowing that the Tyrells could be trusted.

Returning to her rooms, Sansa mulled over everything that had happened. When Jaime returned, she told him everything that Maragery had said, to his great worry and admonishment at her meddling and confiding in the Tyrells, which he later admitted had worked out in their favour. Now they knew who their allies were.

Sansa mentioned her visit to Tyrion, but omitted most of their conversation. She could not tell him what she had heard the night before. As much as it pained her, she could not find the words. _I will tell him, but not yet. He has enough on his mind._

\---------

The day of the trial dawned sooner than any of them would have liked. Upon entering the room, Sansa spared a glance towards Margaery, seated further along, who looked appropriately distressed, as she should be at the trial to determine the guilty of her husband’s killer. Yet, Sansa noted, Magaery’s pain at the treatment of the man she truly loved clearly weighted heavily on her mind, from the ache in her eyes when she looked at Tyrion, unceremoniously dragged in and chained to the stand. As they took their seats, Sansa’s mind snapped from her happy thoughts about Jaime, to worry over Tyrion. Jaime took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her palm, as he often did now when he noticed her anxiety. Tyrion turned and spared a brief glance at Margaery and shot a look at Jaime, who responded with a sorrowful nod. A hush descended over the hall as Lord Tywin began to speak.

“Tyrion, did you kill King Joffrey?”

“No. 

“Well, that’s a relief,” Oberyn Martell said dryly.

“Then who is responsible?” Mace Tyrell accused from beside Oberyn.

“The Gods killed Joffrey. He choked on his pigeon pie.” Sansa bit her lip anxiously at Tyrion’s words.

“You would blame the bakers?” Lord Tyrell questioned.

“Them, or the pie. Just leave me out of it.”

Sansa heard Jaime hiss in anger beside her, “Now isn’t the time to be clever, you fool.” Jaime sounded annoyed, but the worry was evident.

“There are witnesses against you.” Lord Tywin declared. “We shall hear them first. Then you may present your own. You may only speak with our leave.”

Sansa saw Tyrion pale at his own father’s words and felt desperate. It was clear that the trial wasn’t going well and she couldn’t see how it could get any better. The gold cloaks ushered in the first witness, a member of the Kingsguard. Many more followed, giving damning accounts of things Tyrion had said over the years that strangely seemed to show his ‘guilt’. Every time another witness stepped forward, Sansa felt Jaime tense and she squeezed his hand in comfort.

When Ser Meryn Trant told the judges of the day Joffrey had her beaten in the throne room, when Tyrion had threatened the King, she felt Jaime’s hand tighten on hers, clearly angry at the reminder of her abuse. Although the mistreatment she had suffered had been long ago, she herself still felt sick at the thought.

The Kettleblack brothers were the worst of all, giving harsh accounts of Tyrion’s apparent threats. Ser Osmund claimed Joffrey had been a victim of Tyrion’s plot to take the throne.

“That brave boy said to me ‘Good Ser Osmund, guard me well, for my uncle loves me not. He means to be King in my place’”. Sansa was seething. _Is it not enough that she’s hurt Jaime? Now she means to hurt them both by condemning Tyrion to death._

The trial ended for the day. Cersei stood smiling next to her father, as Tyrion was lead away to the cells again. The Queen regent glanced over at Sansa walking out the room with Jaime’s arm hooked through hers. Sansa shot her a glare as they left and saw Cersei’s smile slip.

\--------------

The following day they were back in their seats for the end of the trial. Jaime had begun to plan his preparations, as it was becoming clearer and clearer by the minute that Tyrion was going to be sentenced. He still couldn’t bring himself to prepare for it though, as it felt like giving up and a part of him hoped that he’d get his freedom. Last night, Tyrion had told him that he planned to demand trial by combat. Jaime had been shocked at Tyrion’s sudden change of heart, but was happy to credit it to Margaery Tyrell’s secretive and frequent visits. He did not fault the girl for her persuasions. A trial by combat was Tyrion’s only chance, but still Jaime doubted its success, as he had when he had visited Tyrion the previous night.

_“If the trial fails - and it seems it will – I have decided I will demand trial by battle,” his brother explained._

_“You do know Cersei plans to name her champion as the Mountain if you choose it. I would fight for you any day Tyrion, but my left hand is still not good enough and if I should die, Sansa will be vulnerable.” Tyrion put his hand over his brother’s suddenly, halting his explanation._

_“I understand, Jaime.” Tyrion said. “I do not want you to die any more than you want me to. I’m sure I will find a champion. I know you have Sansa to think about. Just as I had Tysha once.” Jaime swallowed the stab of guilt at his brother’s words, reminding him painfully of his lies all those years ago. He felt like a coward: he couldn’t fight for his brother, nor tell him the truth. If Tyrion knew he would hate him._

_“Has Sansa been to see you?” He blurted out, nowtquite sure why he had said it. Tyrion looked at him in surprise and gave him a weak smile._

_“Yes, a few days ago. I told her not to be stupid, helping me. It's hopeless anyway."_

_Jaime shook his head, dismissing Tyrion’s lack of hope. “I will not let you die. Whatever happens, I promised Sansa – and myself – that I wouldn’t abandon you.” He sighed. “You’re my brother and it would hurt her even more to lose another person she cares about. You’re not going to die, Tyrion. You’ll find a champion.” He added desperately._

_Tyrion pulled him closer to wrap his little arms around him in a rushed hug and then Jaime left, the cloud of guilt weighing on him heavier than iron armour._

Jaime shifted back to the present at Sansa’s sudden gasp of shock. At first he felt a familiar jolt of fear and searched her face for injury, noting nothing. That was until he saw where her stare landed: Shae, Sansa’s maid and Tyrion’s lover was being lead on as a witness. _Against_ his brother.

Tyrion looked sick and Jaime couldn’t blame him – he was just as shocked. _Cersei, what have you done,_ he thought as he watched her take her place at the other stand, under Cersei’s smug expression. He imagined Sansa being brought up to testify against him, if he were in Tyrion’s place and knew that Tyrion must be feeling the betrayal on every level. It would have broken him, after everything he and Sansa had been through, to have her stand against him. If he hadn’t known that part of Tyrion still loved her, he would have crushed the lying whore’s throat to save his brother from the pain of what was surely to come.

He heard his father ask the girl what she knew of Tyrion’s crimes. As soon as he heard her begin to answer, he knew Tyrion had lost his final chance to win the trial.

“He plotted to kill the King. He told me himself, how he planned to take the throne and power for himself. He wanted not only that, but to kill his sister, father and then Prince Tommen when he became King.”

“How could you know all this?” Jaime heard Oberyn ask suspiciously. “Why would the imp divulge such plans to his wife’s maid?”

“I overheard some, m’lord,” she replied, “But most Lord Tyrion told me himself. I wasn’t just Lady Sansa’s maid. I was his whore, all the time he was here in King’s Landing.” Jaime felt his hand shake in fury as the girl listed how Tyrion had used her and forced her to be his whore. _Tyrion loves you, you bitch. He would never mistreat you._

The girl began to cry as she talked of the “shameful” things Tyrion had made her do.

“She’s a good actress, I’ll grant her that.” Jaime spat. Sansa turned to look at him.

“I trusted her. I thought she was my friend,” She whispered back. Sansa had the saddest look on her face. “I can’t ever imagine being betrayed by anyone I loved.” She broke off, staring in despair at the scene unfolding. Jaime felt a shudder of guilt at her words. He still had not told her about Bran.

“He used me every way there was, and... he used to make me tell him how big he was. _My giant_ , I had to call him, _my giant of Lannister_.” Jaime heard the laughs before he saw them, as they spread around the room. He saw the sour turn on his brother’s face and felt Sansa’s fingernails press into his hand in her rage. His little she-wolf looked about ready to kill someone. He wagered Sansa would strike all of them dead if she could.

“Sansa... don’t...” He said, trying to calm her.

“Don’t tell me to be calm! I know what it feels like. To be humiliated like this and after the way he stopped Joffrey from humiliating me that day, I have to stop this for him.” Sansa wrenched her hand out of his and made as if to stand up but before she could he held her down fast in her seat. She struggled against him uselessly.

“Sansa! No, you can’t defy them. It’s a death sentence and I won’t have you risk your life,” he whispered. “Neither would Tyrion.” He motioned for her to look over at his brother. Tyrion had turned around as the laughter began to die and shook his head gently at the look on Sansa’s face. Jaime felt her give in and slump against him. He held her gently as Tyrion began to speak

“My lords!” Tyrion shouted. “Get this lying whore out of my sight and I will give you your confession.” Lord Tywin raised his hand to silence the room and nodded, allowing Tyrion to speak.

“Guilty. I'm guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He uttered, staring hard at his father.

“You admit you poisoned the King?” Oberyn asked.

“Nothing of the sort,” Tyrion stated. “Of Joffrey’s death, I am innocent. I am guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf.”

Lord Tywin was not pleased. “This is folly, Tyrion. Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf.”

“That is where you make the mistake, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.”

“Have you nothing to say in your defence?”

“Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had.” Tyrion turned to face the rest of the room. “I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the Gods. I demand trial by battle.”

“Have you taken leave of your wits?”

“No, I’ve found them. I demand trial by battle!”

Jaime hated the cruel smile on his sister’s face at his words. “He has that right, my lords," she added sweetly. “Let the Gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey. He returned to the city the night before last, to put his sword at my service

Lord Tywin’s face had darkened. Jaime would have said in shock, but he had never known his father to be so emotional and concluded it was a struggle to maintain composure.

“Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?” he asked Tyrion.

_No, he doesn’t,_ was Jaime’s first thought until he saw Oberyn rise and realised his brother had one last, card to play.

“He does, my lord. The dwarf has quite convinced me.” Oberyn said, by way of explanation.

_Well shit. Perhaps you’ve done it, Tyrion._ Although Jaime wasn’t quite convinced that Oberyn would be able to prevail against the mountain.

“Perhaps Tyrion has a chance,” Sansa said, as she watched him being taken to the cells.

“Perhaps – the Mountain is a good fighter but if Oberyn moves quickly, he may be able to win. If not though...” He saw Sansa nod. “Besides, he only wants to fight to avenge his sister – he has little interest in Tyrion’s interests.” Sansa looked crestfallen.

“We should retire early," he said softly to her. “We have a long day ahead.” He sighed, helping Sansa up and taking her back to her rooms. At this point, Jaime was at a crossroads and he had no idea if his brother would win or lose. Something Cersei had once said in passing came back to him: "In the game of thrones you win or you die – there is no middle ground," she had told him _._ It seemed as if now, there was a twist in the game. Whatever the outcome, it would not end in Tyrion's death. Jaime was sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So season 7 is over... we made it! :)
> 
> Obviously, life continues, and I'll be filling the 2 year gap by contributing lots of JS fic to the archive :)


	9. Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maragery reflects upon the situation. Jaime and Sansa have a meeting with the great lion and finally, the truth emerges.

**Circles** __

_If you could see me running after you_

 

_You'd know, I've been running in circles round you_

 

_If we could turn the hours back in time_

 

_You know, I'd be running in circles round you_

 

_**\- Circles by Greta Svabo Bech/Ludovico Ainaudi**   
_

 

 

 

Maragery Tyrell may have been dubbed many things, but stupid was not one of those things. She could well understand her friend’s scepticism towards her feelings for Tyrion: after all, her meetings with him had been secretive – even, perhaps, from Cersei herself. No wonder Sansa doubted her sincerity. Maragery had come to care for the little man and their relationship had become her guiding light as the violence and horrors of King’s Landing snapped relentlessly at her back. She had only come to Tyrion a few moons ago, shortly before his brother had returned and had found that underneath his wit and outward appearance lay a deeply intricate man. She had misjudged the Lannisters, she chad come to realise, as her evenings became occupied with his presence. At first their conversations had been filled with court gossip and formal pleasantries but at some point they had begun to trust one another and dropped their formalities. Tyrion was perhaps the only one she could talk honestly to, aside from Sansa. Maragery had quite forgotten herself, just as she had forgotten precisely when her well meaning friendship had blossomed into a keening attraction to him.

_It’s Joffrey,_ she tried to tell herself. _He is so heartless and cruel that I have convinced myself I have some desire for Tyrion Lannister just because we talk honestly to one another._ Maragery had spoken the truth when she told Jaime her visits to his brother were innocent, for aside from talking they had engaged in nothing but a few games of Cyvasse. As if her mind was doomed to curse her, Maragery recalled the time he had kissed her hand and stared into her eyes. They had looked at each other for an eternity, before she had recovered her composure and fled. _Gods, I forget myself. I am a Queen, not a simpering maiden._ Of course, she wasn’t even a Queen – not by Westerosi technicality. Lacking the consummation of the marriage, her and Joffrey’s union had not even been fulfilled. Her grandmother had only been trying to protect her and Maragery could never thank her enough but now she had to seduce sweet Tommen for her throne. It did not sit well with her.

As much as her goal had always been the Iron Throne, two dead husbands and the third a mere child had Maragery wondering how much she could really give in her ambition for power. _Mayhaps it is time to take a different course._ Maragery could deny her affection for Tyrion all she wanted but she had never cared for anyone as much as  she did him. She had never loved, never sought out a man for any reason other than power and stability. She had always married for her family’s position, yet now she found herself conflicted. If she truly wanted to give in to her own desires, she forced her family to give up on their quest for power.

Realistically, she knew it was pointless: Tyrion was sentenced to die, something she refused to dwell on for fear of losing her only happiness, and although his marriage to Sansa was loveless, and she so close to Jaime, Maragery found it a complication, loving a married man. Despite this, she had exhausted every option she could think of to help them escape this mess and help Jaime and Sansa in the meanwhile. The only thing she could do without getting them all killed was sit back and pray Tyrion succeeded in the trial by combat. Maragery, despite Sansa’s assurances, did not wish to dwell on the possibility that Oberyn Martell would fail because even then Jaime’s aid would not prevent her and Tyrion’s separation, if it be in life or in death.

\-------

Jaime had been planning to retire early, his anxiety over the trial overwhelming him. Unfortunately his father had sent a messenger with a note requesting he and Sansa’s presence. Jaime worried: he knew he had been overly-affectionate with Sansa at the wedding and that it was improper, but he hadn’t cared. Now, he did not like to think what his father wanted with them, but he knew it wasn’t a social visit. Visits with Tywin Lannister never resulted in anything good for anyone but the great lion himself.

Sansa too had been worried. She was good at hiding her apprehension but he had seen it her eyes and had done his best to reassure her, but now, as they sat in his father’s solar waiting for the messenger of doom to speak, the tention was palpable.

“I will not beat about the matter,” Tywin spoke abruptly, shattering the fragile silence cloaking the room. “Tyrion has lost the trial. His last chance stands with Oberyn Martell and I am not confident of his success. Should he, in fact, be proven guilty, I intend on remarrying Lady Sansa.” Jaime’s eyes widened.

“Father, you cannot be serious! Sansa has already suffered at Joffrey’s hands as his betrothed and then you married her off to Tyrion, a man she neither loves nor cares for. At least value her worth as an heiress if you value anything. Besides, what if Tyrion should survive? How can this absurd arrangement work then?”

The corners of Tywin’s mouth twitched and Jaime halted, a suspicion coming over him. “If Tyrion should survive, I will have the marriage annulled. Tyrion has not mistreated her, I understand, but neither has he consummated the marriage. I am not a fool,” he added, glowering at Sansa.

“My lord, I assure you-”

“Save your protestations, my lady, they are useless. I will admit, your marriage to Tyrion was a misstep. Tyrion would never bend to my wishes.” The gleam in Tywin’s eyes grew. “But Jaime will.”

There was no other word than horrified to describe Jaime at this moment. “Father, you cannot possibly mean to marry her to another Lannister? Surely-”

“Enough, Jaime! You will marry the girl and you will make heirs to claim Winterfell. It is the perfect solution: she needs a new husband, you need a wife. Now I have both sitting in front of me. I will argue no more on the matter.”

“And what of Sansa,” he pleaded desperately. “She does not deserve to be unhappy.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow. “From that ridiculous display you put on at the wedding, I doubt the marriage will be unhappy, if it is of any concern to me. What goes on between you is of no consequence to me, but you _will_ marry her in a moon’s time and you _will_ make heirs with which to claim Casterly Rock and Winterfell.”

“Yes, father,” Jaime muttered and he heard Sansa – who had barely said a word during the whole exchange – echo him. Truthfully, Jaime didn’t know why he had protested. It was true, he was angry at his father continuing to plot and scheme as his own son lay in the cells, awaiting certain death. Moreover, he did not wish to force Sansa into another marriage. Whatever she felt about him was her secret but any hope he may have held about earning Sansa’s love was dashed if they were flung together by force.

They walked through the red keep’s halls. Jaime had no idea where he was going but Sansa seemed to and when they reached the entrance to the gardens.

“Sansa...”

She turned to smile at him then, the pure soul she was, and laid a hand gently on his arm, halting their movement. “There’s no need to say anything, Jaime. Your father is hardly the most reasonable man.”

“Still, there is no reason why you should be inflicted with marriage to me. I know you hardly wish to marry another Lannister.”

“I do not hate all Lannisters,” she remarked solemnly. “If I should have to marry a Lannister, I would choose you.” Jaime watched her hesitate, clearly conflicted by her whatever was on her mind. Briefly, she looked down, biting her lips and the voice she spoke with was altogether softer that he was almost lost on the breeze.

“I heard you,” she hesitated, choosing to look then at his face, watching carefully as realisation dawned in the green depths of his eyes. “I heard what you said that night, Jaime. I heard everything.”

“Sansa. I never should have said all of that.” Jaime felt a roaring in his ears and waves of fear broke through his chest, ripping at his heart. His chest clenched painfully and he knew she must hate him. Whatever trust, whatever friendship he had gained with her, that was gone. She would surely despise him.

“Then you did not mean what you said?” Sansa's voice wavered and she began fiddling with the edge of her dress but he could have sworn he saw a smirk playing at her lips. “Oh you foolish man...”

“I love you, Jaime.” Sansa reached out and took his hand in hers. “I love you.”

Jaime spluttered as Sansa smiled affectionately at him. “I thought you would hate me.”

“I gathered as much.”

“Sansa, you cannot know how much you mean to me. Ever since I came back I found nothing but misery. You and Tyrion are the only people I care about. The only ones in this world.”

Sansa reached up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. The words she uttered against his ear were hot and breathless, yet the innocence of their speaker made them all the more intimate.

“Kiss me.”

Jaime restrained a growl as his hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Sansa surprised him before he could move even an inch, and reached up in a rare show of public impropriety, pressing her mouth firmly against his. Jaime’s teeth grazed her lower lip as he ravished her mouth, his tongue against her lips and he heard her breath catch as he tasted her. His hand tangled in her soft red hair, pulling her closer as she bit at his lip, moaning against him. The sound of voices from the gardens caused Sansa to pull away reluctantly but nothing could dispel the euphoric smile on her face, nor her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Jaime cupped her face with his good hand and ran his thumb over her cheek tenderly.

“We shouldn’t let anyone see us,” Sansa murmured by way of explanation, pulling his hand from her face.

“Says the woman who initiated the kissing,” he bantered back, chucking at her. “Besides, in that state, everyone will know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“Jaime!” Sansa said, scandalised. He grinned playfully.

“You know I’m right.”

“Jaime Lannister, you are an arrogant prat and I do not understand why put up with you!”

“Because you love me,” he said. Although it was the answer to her question, Jaime’s sensitivity on the matter made that in itself seem like a question, so worried was he of rejection. Sansa looked up solemnly at him.

“Because I love you,” she repeated. Sansa’s fingers tightened on his as if to reassure him. At times, Jaime reminded her of a small child and this was one such moment. Sansa had long suspected it was the loss of his mother that had triggered such childlike worries.

While the pressure of Tyrion’s fate loomed threateningly above them, neither Jaime nor Sansa could focus on anything other than the innate desire that reached between them. Wordlessly, they left the halls and just about made it back to Sansa’s chambers before they were kissing again, the ardent need to be close to one another leaving them breathless. Jaime stripped off his shirt and Sansa removed her dress but they went no further. Instead, they lay together in bed, holding each other as they slept.

\------------

Later that night, Jaime woke from where he slept beside her in a cold sweat, panting in horror. He fisted his hand in the bed sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the images that lurked hauntingly to slip like silk from the confines of his mind. Breathing deeply, he felt a movement beside him as Sansa’s hand brushed the loose strands of hair from his forehead and ran down his back comfortingly. _It should be I that comforts her after everything she has been through, especially after her family has been killed - at the hands of my own family. Yet she comforts me still._

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured quietly. “My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented.” He let out a light but unconvincing smirk, his face still set in sadness.

“You’re afraid of your dreams?” She asked quietly. Her eyes were lined with concern and he softened.

“Yes.” He replied, letting his head fall in shame. He didn’t want her to see him this way, damaged and haunted. He did not wish her to bear his burdens. Though often his nightmares concentrated upon on the loss of his hand, or of some harm coming to Sansa, the terrifying visions he had seen tonight had been by far the worst, as they so often were when they revolved around his killing of the Mad King.

Jaime clenched his fist, angered by his weakness, until he felt Sansa’s little hand wrap around his wrist and felt her eyes piercing his face.

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” Sansa whispered, squeezing his hand. _Oh my sweet girl._

“After everything you have been through at the hands of my family, how can you bring yourself to comfort me? I hardly deserve it.”

“You protected me when I need it most. Let me do the same.” Sansa ran her fingers absently over his knuckles as he leaned his head against her shoulder, giving in to her warm touch. “Jaime, you know that I’d die too if she hurt you? I care for you just as much as you care for me.”

“I know. I love you,” he whispered. “Sansa, there’s something I want to tell you, something I’ve never told anyone. I don’t say it to make you think better of me, but I say it because I want you to _understand_ me.” Sansa looked at him curiously, prompting him to continue.

“You know why I am called Kingslayer, but there is more to this story than anyone knows. When my father approached King’s Landing at the end of Robert’s Rebellion, with the whole Lannister army beside him, he swore he was there to defend the city, against the rebels. But I knew my father – he was going to pick the winning side, and that meant Robert. So I told the Mad King and urged him to surrender. He didn’t listen to me, he didn’t even listen to Varys, but he did listen to that bastard Pycelle who told him to trust my father. So he opened the gates and my father sacked the city. I came back to the King, begged him to surrender and do you know what he said to me? ‘Bring me your father’s head’”.

“Of course, I wasn’t going to do that: he was my father. But the King had demanded it of me and so I had no choice but to disobey him. Aerys was angry, obviously, but not as angry as I was when I found he had placed caches of wildfire underneath the whole city. Aerys loved the stuff, used to burn his enemies with it. I was there when he turned to his favourite pyromancer and told him to light the caches.”

“‘Burn them all’ he said. Burn them all. So I found the pyromancer and slit his throat and when that was done I found Aerys and stabbed him in the back to stop his insanity before it killed us all.”

By the end, Sansa’s mouth was agape, her hands still where they had previously been stroking his hair.

“Why did you never tell anyone? Why did you not tell my father this?”

“Do you really think your honourable father wanted to hear the excuses I would offer? Eddard Stark didn’t care what I had to say - I was a Kingslayer the moment he clapped eyes on me.”

“What you did wasn’t wrong, Jaime. You saved their lives. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

“I have no honour, sweet girl. Surely you know that by now.”

“You’re not honourless, Jaime. Not to me anyway.” She pulled his face to look at hers with her slender little fingers on his cheek. “You are protecting me, you are fulfilling your vow to my mother.”

“I don’t think falling in love with you was what your mother intended,” he added, raising his eyebrow at her. Sansa stifled a smile.

“No, but she would want me happy. Being with you makes me happy.”

“I still feel like I’m dishonouring you – you deserve much better, Sansa. You deserve a true knight who can give you everything – not a half-damaged excuse. I’ve sinned, sweet girl. Can I ever be forgiven for everything I’ve done to get here?” Jaime knew the last sin, the last secret he held from her may never be forgiven by her and it was precisely why he could not bring himself to speak the words: _I pushed your Brandon Stark from that tower and I crippled him._

“I forgive you, for Cersei, for your actions against my family. War is hard. I will not hold grudges: life is too bitter for that.”

“Thank you, Sansa. Your words, they mean a lot. Truly, thank you.” He kissed her gently as she snuggled up against his side and began to drift off to sleep in his arms.

Sansa snuggled closer to him. _I don’t care what he’s done. He’s not the same man he was before. This man that I know and love is_ my _Jaime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys like that? Because I sure loved writing it :D
> 
> Next chapter, the trial continues and there's... um... quite a lot of angst. So savour this fluff while you can ;)


	10. Songs Already Sung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial concludes and Sansa breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead. I've just been very busy and I probably won't update for a little while after this. I'm sorry it's been so long but here I am, and i hope you all enjoy this chapter, as short as it is. 
> 
> Please review if you like, and send me your speculations - I love to hear them :-)

**Songs Already Sung**

_I cannot undo_

_what I have done;_

_I can't un-sing_

_a song that's sung._

 

_And the saddest thing_

_about my regret-_

 

_I can't forgive me_

_and you can't forget._

 

_**\- A Betrayal, Lang Leav**   
_

 

The dreaded trial by combat loomed over Sansa’s happiness. She barely said a word to Jaime as they dressed and made their way to the stone ampitheatre where the fight would take place. She could sense Jaime’s agitation when she took her seat with him beside the Royal family. Sansa knew he hated that he could do little to help his brother and they had done nothing but sit still for the last three days. It was clear he wished he were fighting Ser Gregor over Oberyn, but, hate as she might to admit it, Oberyn Martell had more chance of securing Tyrion’s freedom and Sansa did not wish to see Jaime take on a brute such as the Mountain.

Ser Gregor made his way onto the battleground, staring at Oberyn. The two could not have been more different: the Mountain wore heavy plate and metal armour with a huge sword in his fists, whilst the Dornish Prince had donned only a light tunic and silks, a long thin spear his weapon of choice.  Sansa felt herself fidget and then Jaime's hands close over hers, stilling her movements. It looked to her now that Jaime’s doubts had been right and very possibly the Mountain would be able to defeat Oberyn. A quick glance at Cersei’s face told her that the bitch was confident she would win. Sansa wanted nought more than to slap Cersei, to throw back in her face the abuse she had hurled at Sansa before, but she restrained herself, praying that Tyrion would prevail and his victory could wipe the smug expression from Cersei's face.

“How can Prince Oberyn possibly hope to best the Mountain?” Sansa murmured nervously.

“He’ll have to move fast, tire him out until the Mountain slows and then make his strikes count,” Jaime told her, “But if the Mountain gets even one blow, it may quite possibly mean the Prince’s death.”

_He’ll succeed. He has to,_ she thought desperately. She saw Lord Tywin shoot a look at his son and then motion for the trumpeters to silence the crowd. The High Septon said a prayer to the Gods and then the fight began.

Sansa saw Oberyn passionately kiss his... _paramour,_ wasn’t it? He murmured a few words to her before he flexed his fingers along the spear and twirled it experimentally , facing the hulking knight. Sansa couldn’t help but be reminded of herself and Jaime when she looked at Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell. It was obvious he loved her, although their relationship was different. _He’s protective of her, like Jaime is over me and she worries, as much as he seems strong, just as I worry for Jaime._ Despite the odd word they had exchanged, Sansa had barely talked to either of them. _If he survives, I want to meet him properly._   _I only hope I get the chance._

“I am Oberyn Martell, a Prince of Dorne.” Oberyn declared to the silence of the Knight. “Princess Elia was my sister.”

“You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” He continued accusingly.

The Mountain merely grunted and Sansa realised that Jaime had been right – the Prince only wanted to fight to avenge his sister. _Does Tyrion still stand a chance? Does Oberyn care what happens to him?_

Oberyn looked impressive, true. He started by theatrically displaying his skills with the spear, to the applause of the crowd but it did nothing to ease Sansa’s tension. As he began to parry with Ser Gregor, Sansa noted with joy that he was easily able to deflect and avoid the knight’s blows. She felt Jaime ease up beside her, although his gaze didn’t move from the fight. Sansa saw Tyrion desperately watching the fight too and turned her attention back.

“You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.”

Prince Oberyn moved almost acrobatically, gracefully moving his feet to almost ‘dance’ his way throught the fight. He was quick to act when Ser Gregor attempted to slam his sword down on Oberyn’s head and moved to lunge back, although he mainly tended to avoid the blows than return them.

“Ser Gregor is tiring. He may have a shot.” She heard Jaime whisper into her ear. She nodded, not daring to hope.

“You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” Oberyn repeated.

Then, she saw Ser Gregor suddenly regain his footing from where Oberyn had just caused him to trip from tiredness and - with his opponent distracted - the Mountain caused the Prince to stumble as he just managed to evade the blow. Sansa inhaled sharply as the blade missed his skin by inches.

“You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Confess it.” Oberyn had nerve, Sansa could see that as clear as the Dornish sun.

“Fuck!” Jaime cursed beside her. Sansa saw the Prince barely miss another of the Mountain's vicious swipes.

Sansa could only watch in horror as the Prince’s near-misses became closer and closer. _Tyrion isn’t going to win this._ That was when the prince managed to trip Ser Gregor and he fell to the ground. _Finish him and Tyrion is free,_ she thought, echoing Jaime’s mutterings beside her. Sansa remained hopeful, but Oberyn leaned over Ser Gregor and the brute managed to snag Oberyn’s robes and yank him down onto the stone surface with an audible crack. The mountain flipped himself over so he was on top of Oberyn and pressed his thumbs down on the Dornish man’s eyes until his head shattered. Jaime pulled Sansa against him so she wouldn’t see the gore left by this sickening defeat. _Tyrion was so close..._

“She’s done it.” Jaime grimaced from beside her, as he caught sight of his brother retching. “Cersei will have his head.” As his words sunk in Sansa twisted her fingers into Jaime’s doublet. Cersei’s face held nothing but pure euphoria and Sansa stared back in equal measures of hatred. Sansa felt Jaime’s hand rubbing her back as Tywin’s voice echoed over the grounds, declaring Tyrion guilty and that he would be executed on the morrow.  Turning to look at Jaime, he motioned that they should leave and she followed him away. The guards were dragging Tyrion away too, but Jaime strode over quickly before any of his family could object.

“Tyrion... I am so very sorry, brother. I wish I could have fought for you.”

“No, Jaime. You would have been a fool to have chosen to do so. Our sweet sister always had me destined for death,” he tried to jape, failing miserably. “Jaime... I... take care of yourselves. Cersei is dangerous now... she will try to hurt you.”

“She already has.” Jaime spat bitterly.

“Jaime, I am being serious. I would not see either of you come to harm. Do not let her beat us all down.” Jaime nodded solemnly and leaned in closer to his brother.

“I will not let her kill, you I promise,” he muttered, barely audible.

“Jaime...”

“Farewell, brother,” he murmured, pulling Tyrion into a crushing embrace. Sansa rested a hand on Tyrion’s shoulder for a moment, her face twisting into a sympathetic smile and when she turned her head, she noticed Margaery gazing, heartbroken, at Tyrion, unable to talk nor comfort him. Sansa's heart bled for her friend.

“Goodbye, Tyrion.”

“Take care of yourselves.” And with that Tyrion is taken to the black cells. Tywin’s voice cut through them from behind.

“Jaime.” The eldest son turned and faced his father, refusing to remove his hand from Sansa’s waist when he saw Cersei beside their father. The slip of a smile from her face is pleasing to note.

“Yes, father.” Jaime had no time for courtesy with a man who would sentence his own son to die.

“Given the events of today, you will marry Lady Sansa in a fortnight, after Tommen’s coronation. I will speak to you further in due course of what I expect from the both of you.” With that, Tywin strode away, Cersei shadowing, though she stopped to throw a bitter glance behind her. Jaime glowered back and pulled Sansa closer to his side.

“Come, Sansa. We ought to get some rest.” Sansa leaned heavily against him as they gradually returned to her chambers, the rooms she had once shared with Tyrion. Jaime sunk down gratefully into the char, pouring himself a generous measure of wine and Sansa slumped on the bed, staring into space.

“Sansa, tonight I’m going to set Tyrion free. I’ll be back before dawn. Don’t leave these rooms – I won’t risk anyone believing you were involved.”

Sansa stood up, coming to stand next to Jaime until he pulled her into his lap. “Come here, sweet girl.” He nuzzled his nose in her hair and Sansa curled up more in his arms. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll be fine, I swear to you.”

“I know. I know you’ll keep us safe. I trust you.”

“Good.” Jaime stands, scooping Sansa in his arms and slipping her into the bed. “Get some sleep, Sansa.” He places a light kiss on her lips, pulling the covers over the both of them.

\------------

Sansa woke sometime in the night, with Jaime is gone and the room cool. Suddenly finding herself shivering, Sansa slid out of bed in search of a warm blanket. As she pulled one from the chair, a neatly folded and sealed note caught her eye. Interest piqued, Sansa turned it over curiously and pulled the wax seal away.

It’s a long note, the scrawl unfamiliar and haunting. By the time she reaches the end, the note has already fallen from her hands with her heart. She can almost hear it shatter on the floor. For an eternity she stands unmoving.

Then she falls, screaming, crying her soul into the floor.

_I would have forgiven you almost anything, my love, but the impossible._

There is surely no way back from this. Of all the betrayals Sansa has suffered, learning that the man she loves once pushed her brother from a tower is the most excruciating of all and she wonders if her heart will ever sop aching. 


	11. Let Her Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime returns to find Sansa, an unexpected death shakes their situation and Jaime tries to resolve things with bitter consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys ;-)
> 
> 1) I'm very sorry if this goes over-angsty or whatever but I was in one of those moods and I've been listening to Sleeping at Last, so y'know, sorry *shrugs sheepishly*   
> 2) It mentions Brienne and oathkeeper here, you'll know the bit when you read it and just to let you know Jaime has kinda already given it to her in an unwritten bit, but it's implied he already did here so to avoid confusion i thought I'd just make it clear. 
> 
> Happy reading! (or not... whatever :P ) Please leave a review, ALWAYS appreciated and I will love you for it!

**Let Her Go**

_Staring at the bottom of your glass_   
_Hoping one day you'll make a dream last_   
_But dreams come slow and they go so fast_   
_You see her when you close your eyes_   
_Maybe one day you'll understand why_   
_Everything you touch surely dies_

 

_'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low_   
_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_   
_Only know you love her when you let her go_

 

**_\- Let Her Go by Passenger_ **

 

 

 

****

Jaime felt like a huge weight had fallen on his shoulders with no explanation for it. He’d freed Tyrion in what had been a bittersweet farewell. Perhaps his unease was that he had been unable to tell Tyrion his final sin, had been unable to tell his brother that he was complicit in the lies his father had conjured about Tysha all those years ago. He knew it was foolish, but in the same way he couldn’t tell Sansa about Bran, he had been frozen. In truth, he knew that if he told one, he’d have to tell the other and he wasn’t sure if he could live with losing the two people he loved, even if he knew in his heart that he was lying to them.

Forcing himself to push aside his guilt, he smiled at the thought of Sansa. Soon he’d be marrying her and he would be able to take her far away from this hell. _She’ll be happy. We’ll be happy._ In some ways, he was sure his keeping her safe and making her happy could atone for his crimes against her family and all the wrongdoings she had thus far suffered. That, and he could finally love her with every part of his being, openly and with abandon in front of whomever he pleased. It did not escape him that he would also be able to make love to her as he so ardently desired. Jaime knew she had not experienced the pleasures of marital intimacy with Tyrion, nor had she been touched by Joffrey and he wished to guide her gently into such things.  Lost in his thoughts, he had not noticed that he was at their chambers but the realisation brought a smile to his face and he quietly lifted the latch on the heavy door. At first he thought Sansa was abed, for the candles were unlit and the only dim glow came from the embers of the fire, but when his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw her sitting on the floor. At once he thought she had been hurt but she was sitting perfectly still on her knees and her hands braced against the floor. Although her back was to him, Jaime could see a letter peeking from her hand and slowly approached her.

“Sansa...?”

Jaime walked around her and it was only then that he could see her face, see the way the dying glow of the fire reflected the tears streaming down her face. 

“Sansa, what in seven hells has happened! If Cersei’s been here, I swear...”

Sansa let out a bitter laugh, staring up at him with clear scorn blazing through her tears. “If only it was as simple as that...”

“What do you mean?” Jaime felt his blood chill as Sansa’s eyes tore through him accusingly.

“Oh, surely you can guess, _Jaime,_ ” she spat. “After all, you’re not completely stupid. Not stupid enough to risk your relationship with Cersei. Not stupid enough to risk my brother telling anyone!” Sansa was screaming now, her hands pummeling his chest as she let the words pollute the night air. Jaime was shocked. Never had he seen Sansa this violent. Such an outpouring of anger was simply unlike her, but when she mentioned he brother, he understood with a deathly finality the cause of her hatred.

“Sansa, I should have told you, but I feared-”

“Feared  what, exactly? That I would find out?”

“Sansa, I never meant to conceal it from you.”

“Well then, enlighten me. When exactly _did_   you plan on telling me?”

Jaime swallowed harshly. “After everything you’d been through, losing your brother Robb-”

“Another brother your family saw fit to take from me!”

“Sansa, please, listen to me...”

She whirled around, tears still flowing down her cheeks. “Why should I? Why should I ever believe anything you say, anything you’ve ever said... Did you ever love me?”

Jaime reached for her but Sansa snatched her arm from his reach. “ _Please, Sansa_ , you know I do.”

“Then I cannot understand why you would hide such a thing from me.”

“I could not bear to cause you distress.”

Sansa’s face twisted in hurt. “And what have you caused now?” Jaime made to speak but she flinched and he hesitated. “I don’t want you come near me again. I don’t want to ever speak to you again, but your father will see us married. If you ever cared for me at all, you will not touch me ever again, married or no.”

“I will not, Sansa. I promise.”

Sansa eyed him suspiciously, but nodded harshly. “Very well, my lord.”

Jaime watched her leave, not quite sure of where she was going but that she was trying to get as far away from him as possible. _And for good reason. You tried to kill her brother, no wonder she hates you._ It was true, he felt the loss of the woman he loved greatly, but he could not fault nor condemn her. He should never have Bran Stark from that tower, but more than that, he should never have hidden it from her. Now he had lost whatever trust and love he had gained from her. _At least I can still protect her._ Sansa may despise his existence but he would not let her come to harm and he had every intention now of sending her home. Upholding his vow to her mother had to be the best way to help her, whether she liked it or not.

As he sunk against the bed, rubbing his face with his hands, he realised Sansa had left the letter n the floor. The letter – he assumed – that had continued the dishonourable truth about the man she had loved. He picked up the paper, scanning it absently until he realised that the reason he could not concentrate nor read its contents was that he was crying and his vision had blurred. Any other time he might have berated himself for weeping like a babe but truth be told, even if it was his own fault, he could not wallow in anything but utter despair. All he had was Sansa and she was everything he had just destroyed.

Another thought sprung to mind from underneath the crushing weight of his transgressions. It was one thing that Sansa had found out at all, but another was the identity of the letter’s author. As Jaime turned it over in his hands, he found himself examining the writing and the absence of signature and seal. The author had left no trace of their identity and his inability to recognise the handwriting implied that they had used someone else – likely a paid-off servant – to write it. To Jaime, there was only one person here in the keep who wished he and Sansa ill: Cersei _._ There was almost no doubt in his mind that the villainous bitch would have found great satisfaction in the idea of tearing them apart, especially when the man concerned in this coupling was her own former lover and Sansa the girl she sought to make pay for the alleged crime of killing her eldest son, even if she was by all accounts innocent.

Jaime squeezed the letter tight in his hand, the ink smudging as he closed his fist around it. Though it was his own grievances against her family that had cut Sansa so deeply, he could not help but feel a swell of anger at Cersei. It had never been his sister’s place to tell his most shameful secret, though he understood now that in her quest for power there was nothing she would not try to use as leverage to take down her enemies. He should not be surprised, really, at her telling Sansa the truth. Jaime had always underestimated her.

He was cut off from his thoughts as the great bells of King’s Landing began to toll. Jaime paused and listened intently. At the moment the bells concluded their sickening song, his heart leapt for Sansa: now the truth was out, there was an even greater risk of her coming to harm, be it from her own hand or his sister’s. Without a thought he was running down the dim halls, his mind on Sansa and now also consulting the possibility that Tyrion had been caught.

As he approached the end of the hall, he caught sight of the gathering of people outside his father’s room. Cersei’s face was alight with fury as she stalked amongst the soldiers, orders spewing from her mouth. Pycelle also stumbled out of the Hand’s chambers and he noticed his Uncle Kevan sitting outside, pale faced and hands clenched. Jaime wandered over.

“Kevan, what’s going-” Evidently, Cersei had heard his voice for she rounded on them.

“He’s killed our father! Our murderous little imp of a brother. Father is dead and it’s because of him. Somehow he was freed and he’s gone and he's murdered our father!” Cersei stormed up to him, clenching his arm forcefully. “We have to find him and see him punished for this. I will see him dead!”

“Cersei... calm down. We have no idea who did this...”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself, Jaime!” she hissed. “We all know he did this. That vile dwarf who killed our mother. He killed our son and now he’s killed our father. He’d kill us all if he could.”

“Cersei, this is madness...”

“Is it? He’s not the only one... I am certain the Stark whore had something to do with it. I know she helped him kill Joffrey.”

Jaime’s features curled nastily. “Sansa had nothing to do with Joffrey’s death and if you try to have her implicated in any way I will stop you, in any way I can. Don’t think I don’t know it was you who wrote that letter either.” Jaime felt his rage bubbling: everything about the letter, about his father’s death, Cersei’s allegations... he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What letter?” Cersei snapped. Jaime stared blankly at her – he knew Cersei was a good liar, but this... this was not the face of a liar. _She wasn’t the one to send that letter_. _So who sent it?_ Just as a possibility began to dawn, Pycelle emerged once again from his father’s chambers looking harried.

“Well, what is it?” Cersei barked.

“Your grace... your... your father...  I don’t... believe... that is...”

“With haste, Grand Maester!”

“Your father... it seems he was poisoned... your grace...”

Cersei let out a puff of hair, rolling her eyes. “And that helps us how?”

“Cersei,” Jaime began, “If he was poisoned, it means that Tyrion did not kill father. It means that someone else did.” Jaime paused, thinking. “Could it not have been Oberyn Martell?”

Cersei laughed mockingly. “Oh you always were the stupid one. Do you truly not understand? It does not matter which one killed father: Oberyn is dead, Tyrion will be soon enough. I will crush our enemies to dust.”

“ _Our_ enemies?” He furrowed his brows. “There is no _us._ Not anymore. We’re done, Cersei. You know that. I will not be dragged back into your scheming plots for power, nor will I kill our brother, if that is what I presume you are going to ask.”

“If you have no intention of participating in my ‘plots’, then just know that marrying the Stark bitch is no longer an option.”

“So be it,” he snaps. Cersei’s eyes narrow and a gleeful smirk settles on her face.

“She knows, doesn’t she. Was that what the letter was all about?”

“It is of no concern to you.”

“Oh but it is. How unfortunate that your doting little wolf found out the truth. I must say, I am rather saddened that I did not have the chance to tell her myself. I so should have liked to see her reaction. I take it she hates you.”

Sansa _did_ hate him and as much as his sister might know it, Jaime was not about to give her the satisfaction of knowing it from his lips, so with nothing he could say, he remained silent. His sister’s face grew even more gleeful.

“Perhaps you really do have no one.” Without another word, Cersei stalked away, giving the soldiers further commands to find Tyrion. Jaime stumbled away, ignoring Kevan’s pitying stares and pale grief stricken face.

Most everything that came from Cersei’s mouth was meant to hurt but the force of her words, that he had no one left, struck him in a way that no sword ever had. He had let Tyrion go free, had let his father die and driven the woman he loved away by his own hand, if not his own confession. He truly was alone.

He did not linger to watch his father be taken to the Sept. He did not think he could bear to see anymore death or despair, so instead he sought out Brienne. Jaime found the wench guarding Sansa's old chambers. Brienne was immediately on edge as soon as he approached the door and her hand went straight to the hilt of the sword. Jaime didn’t even a chance to explain himself before Brienne lunged at him, glaring accusingly at him.

“What did you do to her?” she whispered hardly. Jaime almost flinched, not from Brienne’s threatening stance but from the knowledge that he had lost her respect. Brienne was almost a friend and one he had forgotten he had but when she learned the whole truth he would lose her too.

“I... Sansa found out something... someone told her about... that I pushed her brother from the tower back at Winterfell when I was with Cersei. That I caused him to be crippled. There was a letter, from whom I don’t know but it wasn’t Cersei...”

Jaime broke off at Brienne’s judgemental stare. The wench’s blue eyes were wide, equal measures shock and resentment. “You crippled Brandon Stark?”

“I only did it because I feared that he might tell of what he saw, endangering the lives of us and our children...” he swallowed uncomfortably. “I regretted pushing him almost immediately after, but I did what I had to in order to protect them.”

“Sansa knows...” Brienne whispered to which he could only nod in response, a thick lump in his throat threatening to choke him from the inside out.

“It hurt her, more than I care to think of, but whether or not she loves me, I am going to fulfill the vow I made to her mother. I will return her home North as soon as possible, and I am sending you to look for Arya Stark.”

“My place is here, with Lady Sansa... she needs to be protected!"

Jaime just shook his head. “You’ll be of no use to her if you stay here: I can protect her here, so can Ser Addam. She needs her family, or what’s left of it...” he took a deep breath. “Find her sister and take her North. If they are safe then I will have kept my oath and as long as Sansa is happy then I can rest easy.”

Brienne lowered her sword, her blue eyes softening as she took in Jaime’s crumpled expression at the idea of Sansa’s happiness. “You really care about her... Jaime, perhaps in time...”

“No...” he shook his head resoundingly. “She deserves better, Brienne. I never could have made her happy, not when she knew the truth and to lie to her would have made me even less deserving of her.”

“If you fought for her...”

Jaime sighed gloomily, running a hand through his hair. “I have to let her go. It’s the best thing to do Brienne. I am no fool, though everyone seems to think so. No, you go, find Arya with oathkeeper, and I’ll get her home.”

“Jaime, are you sure...”

“I have to let her go, Brienne.” Jaime shut his mouth before he could let the involuntary crack spill out, though he was certain that even if his heart chose to shatter in silence, the fading glow of his eyes told the story. Brienne hurried away, giving him a brief farewell. He was once again alone. Sansa only on the other side of the door but to him he felt a world away. She could have been in Essos for how far he felt from her now. _It’s good,_ he tried to convince himself. _She doesn’t want to be close to you. You cannot stay attached._ So he stood outside her door, listening to her gentle sobs and tried to ignore the feeling that his heart had just fallen to fragments from the walls of the Red Keep.


End file.
